


Moments Missed

by Montreat11



Series: Moments Series [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:11:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 79,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Montreat11/pseuds/Montreat11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does she feel like there is something strange going on in Storybrooke, and why does she feel like she's the only one who doesn't know? 3rd in the Moments Series. It contains all of Lacey's moments, those that we saw and those we didn't, beginning with Regina givng her Lacey's memories and ending with Rumple giving her the potion to bring Belle's memories back. R/R.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Having a Past

_Suddenly, from out of nowhere, her headache seemed to peek…and her mind began to swim with a hazy feeling...again._

A split second later the headache was gone…but something else had returned.

She could remember again.

She gaped at the realization, almost wanting not to believe it. But it was true. It was all there, like it had never left. She remembered.

She could remember her childhood. She remembered growing up in Australia and just how much she had loved that country. She remembered how much she had loved swimming in the ocean and spending her days on endless stretches of sand. She'd even tried surfing once! She'd loved that ocean so much that she used to leave her window open even on the coldest nights so that she could hear it crash against the beach and smell the salt in the air.

She could remember school, too. Even though it gave her the exact opposite feeling of the ocean. She'd hated school and everything that went with it: homework, studying, classes. There were only a few subjects that she had really taken an interest in and the rest she was bored with. But she'd gone, not because it was expected of her but because she found she could have fun even there. She had loved her friends, loved staying long after the last bell rang just to talk with them about boys and dances. She remembered late night trips to the mall and early trips to markets just to see what kind of clothes she could find for cheap.

Clothes!

She remembered clothes! She remembered how she'd poured over fashion magazines and watched all the fashion shows she could! She could remember sneaking into a movie set once just to get a taste of how designing worked and what went into the trade. That was the moment that she decided that she was going to be a designer someday. Her father had never thought much of her ambition but her mother had indulged it, taken her to a fashion week once and given her a sketchbook and colored pencils for her seventh birthday, then bought her a sewing machine for her twelfth, and on their last Christmas together she could remember getting silk fabric, lace, and a tape measure. It was the greatest honor she'd ever had. Fifteen years old, and it was her that designed that little black dress her mother wore when she and her father went out on their date that Valentine's Day. She could remember how proud she'd been when her friends wanted her to make them something for dances and dates. Her mother had joked with her that she had a brand name built right into her name…but she took it seriously.

She had a dream, she could remember it clearly again. All she wanted from that moment on was to have one of those A-list actresses interviewed on the red carpet respond "I'm wearing Lacey tonight!" It was perfect, her life, her future, everything was set for her from that moment on. She could remember being a happy.

And she could remember when it all changed.

Her mother had loved the ocean just as much as she did. Her father always said that it was her love of it that made him fall in love with her. They often took trips to the shore even as she got older. She and her father might not have gotten along well on their own, but whenever the three of them were together, they were happy. So when her parents suggested they go to the beach on a late afternoon in July she had jumped at the opportunity, not realizing the saddened look on her their faces.

Her mother had been exhausted for months, falling asleep here and there, tossing and turning, no matter how tired she was never truly resting. Her face had slowly begun to sink in, dark circles had appeared under her eyes, and the color had drained from her cheeks. She felt constantly dizzy, her headaches were endless, but it was when her speech began to slur and she started mixing up her words that they panicked. She could remember how they'd sat her down that afternoon and told her about the trip to the doctor as the tide came in. She'd stubbornly watched the surf as she listened to her mother's courageous and optimistic words. But she just couldn't bear to face her, for her to see the tears in her eyes. Her mother was being brave, why couldn't she be?

But bravery didn't matter.

Bravery wouldn't listen.

Bravery couldn't cure her mother.

They spent three more months together, but by the time Christmas came around the next year, she'd exchanged her happy colors for somber black. Her friends stayed in the wake of the loss, but eventually faded into the background. They just didn't know what to say to her. In the months that followed, she'd turned to the only thing she knew, the only thing that could make her happy…clothes. She worked day and night: sketching, sewing, creating, trying to find some meaning in the life her mother had taken with her. That had been when the delicate relationship she and her father had maintained began to unravel.

They'd never gotten along well, even when her mother was alive. She'd always been the mediator between the two of them. She suspected that he'd always wanted a boy, a son instead of a daughter, someone to run the family business when he was gone. She figured that had more to do with why he didn't like the fashion than anything. When she showed no interest in his interests, in his business, he'd simply lost interest in her. To make matters worse, clothes had always been something she and her mother had done together. The more she talked about designing, the more she worked at it, and received magazines, and looked into schools...the more and more he was reminded of her mother. It took her years, but slowly the clothes gave her a reason to come back to life, to seek out her friends, to live again. And the more she did the more and more depressed her father got. Then, one night, the summer before her senior year of high school, he'd announced to her over dinner that they were moving.

As he said the words, she suddenly found herself feeling those same things that she'd felt when her mother had died. Empty. Numb. Nothing. He couldn't stand to be here, he explained. He couldn't live in their house. He couldn't work. He couldn't go anywhere. The entire nation seemed to remind him of her and he told her that if he didn't leave soon, he didn't think he'd ever survive the blow. He was a man haunted and couldn't move on like she was. But he didn't understand. It hadn't been easy for her either, she'd had to claw her way out of her grief climbing hand over hand, inch by inch, to get back to the fraction of the happy person she had been. He hadn't even tried! And now he was going to take the little life she'd formed in the wake of the disaster down with him! No, she couldn't let him do that!

She'd begged. She'd cried. She'd tried to compromise: couldn't they stay until high school was done, couldn't she live with a friend for a year, couldn't she live on her own before she went away to study fashion design? He simply shook his head. He'd lost one family member, he couldn't bear to lose another. But he was wrong about that. The life that she'd been working hard to put back together was the only thing keeping her alive! The day he'd forced her on that plane and dragged her out into the middle of nowhere, Storybrooke, Maine, United States of America…he'd lost her already. He'd killed her spirit.

Her father had bought a new building and quickly restarted his business in the small town. She finished high school without a friend in the world. When she started looking into American design schools, he insisted he'd never pay for anything like that, still clinging to the hope that she'd give up and do something a little more secure, responsible, and noble with her life, at least by his standards. So, she'd gone to work in a local clothing store, Modern Fashions, to earn money to pay for school herself. When he figured out her plan, he shoved a brochure for the local community college in her hand and requested that she begin to pay rent, diminishing the little money she made every month. He was so afraid of losing her that he clung to her and it was suffocating. He could see how much she longed for her own life and he sought to correct it by keeping her chained. And she just couldn't take it.

It was okay though, she'd found freedom in other ways. When her mother had been around she'd been the vision of a perfect daughter, now she found that rebellion had its merits. If he wouldn't willingly give her up, she wondered if she could force him to.

It had been by accident, she'd worn a black dress two days in a row and he'd commented on why she couldn't wear something brighter. From that moment on she made sure to only wear black, just to get under his skin. Ever the insistent scheduler, he set times for them to meet for dinner and was furious when she walked in late and eventually stopped showing up completely. Since he hardly allowed her to keep the little money she made anyway, she stayed out later and later. The first time he'd screamed at her for staying out without bothering to even call, she'd screamed right back that she wasn't a child and he couldn't control her life! That didn't seem to stop him from trying though. On her twenty-first birthday she'd gone to the local bar and made friends with the bartender. The first time Sheriff Graham had pulled her over for drunk driving he'd "done her a favor" and drove her home without writing her up. Her father exploded and upped her rent. After that, she didn't need to come home drunk to irritate him. She just didn't have to come home.

All she had to do was spend time with certain people, powerful people, that the town respected out of fear and never harmed. She wouldn't say that they were ever her friends, she knew better, she never had any of their numbers or visited them at the end of the night, but her father didn't know that. And she found that if others knew she was looking for a good time, for a party, they were happy to oblige, even in the little town of Storybrooke. And then there was the collection of men's jackets that she kept in her closet from coming home in the early hours of the morning, hair untidy, make-up smeared, smelling of alcohol, and sex.

By the time her father truly opened his eyes and realized that she was too far out of control for him to handle, she didn't care. She was beyond caring and sympathy. In her opinion, he'd brought it on himself. He'd made a selfish choice once without any thought for her, the way she saw it that entitled her to a few selfish choices of her own and if he didn't like how she dressed or spent her time...he'd have to figure it out alone the way she had.

Still, they argued all the time. She was a brilliant girl and the way she was acting wasn't what was best for her, she'd heard the same old boring argument a thousand times! And he'd heard her reply a thousand times over as well. What was best for her was fashion school, to go after her dreams, to live the life he'd stolen from her! But he just couldn't see that! He refused to. Making a name for herself as a fashion guru was just as unlikely of her becoming a big Hollywood actress! She needed to find something stable, something that would promise her a paycheck and insurance and he wouldn't pay for school if she was only going to waste her education on a pipe dream that would never make it off the ground!

And so that was that. He wouldn't even give her a fair shot at trying and failing, just kept putting up road block after road block. He thought that he could choose her destiny for her, but it just didn't work that way. And so the tension grew and grew thicker and thicker with ever passing day and then month and then year until...

Until that night.

She'd come home from the Rabbit Hole, earlier than expected, irritated because the person she'd spent most of her time with that night hadn't invited her back to his place and she'd had no choice but to go home. He was sitting in front of the television, gazing at it without really seeing it. He made a rude comment as she walked in about her sleeping in her own bed for once, but two could play at that game. She responded by making a comment of her own about not getting lucky enough to find a strangers bed, fighting fire with fire.

He snapped.

Why couldn't she just be a woman that her mother would have been proud of? Why did she have to act this way? What had he done to deserve this behavior?!

She yelled right back.

Why did he have to take her away from everything she'd ever known? Why couldn't he have let her stay in her home? Why did he have to be so selfish? Couldn't he see that he was holding her back?!

Fashion wasn't a career it was a gamble he wouldn't allow his daughter to take!

And a job at clothing store was any better? Doing something that didn't make her happy was what she was supposed to do for the rest of her life?

What was so terrible about her job?! What was so hard about going to college and becoming a teacher or taking over the business?! Was she really happy the way she was? Was she really happy with what she'd become?!

He hadn't given her much of a choice at who to become! This way or his way she was miserable and wanted to go to fashion school!

"You are an adult, Lacey. No one is forcing you to be here, if you want to go then go!" he'd screamed pointing at the door. "But don't expect me to be there to pick up the pieces when you crash and burn!"

And so, for the first time in years, since they'd moved to this God awful place, she did as she was told.

The look on his face as she'd moved around him told her that he really hadn't expected the confrontation to end with her taking him up on his offer and leaving so abruptly. But with a final "Fine! I'll write to you from New York!" she found herself out alone in the chilly night, just walking. She should have gone to the Rabbit Hole again, no doubt she could have found someone else to spend the night with if she put some effort into it, but her father's words echoed in her mind and drove her in the other direction. "No one decides my fate but me," she muttered over and over.

Why hadn't she left before now? There had been nothing holding her here, nothing that bound her to Storybrooke. She was just someone who rang women up at the register and occasionally got to give them advice on what to wear, surely she could hold that kind of job in another town! She could leave, she could start a new life outside of this dull place. Surely it would be easier there than it had been here living under his roof!

She made her way out to the long black lonesome road. Part of her wondered if her father would come for her, insist she get in the car and come back home, that they could figure this out, the way they used to, the way they had when they'd been a family, and not just people bound to each other by blood. But she knew, somehow, this fight had been different from the others. They'd both said terrible things to each other. Worse. They'd both spoken terrible truths to one another.

Was she happy this way? Or had she simply done such a good job convincing her father that this was who she really was that she'd fallen for it too? She did her best to convince herself that she was happy, that this was who she really was and she liked it. She tried to tell herself that she'd grown since her mother died, that she'd recovered, and matured. She'd discovered herself! She was a grown woman, as her father had pointed out, why shouldn't she be allowed to act like it.

But the truth was, deep down, she felt like something was missing. She'd felt it since her mother had died. She'd done her best to create happiness, but at the heart of the issue she still wished that none of this had ever happened, that her mother had lived, that her best friend, the only person who had ever really supported and taken care of her, was still around. She'd be different if she hadn't. She had nothing to prove that belief, but she just knew, if she had that one piece of her that was missing, she'd be happy again.

Suddenly she saw lights cast shadows on the trees in front of her. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe her father was coming for her. Maybe they hadn't finished their fight after all, or maybe he'd come to grovel. It was too late. She couldn't go back, not even if he begged. The lights became brighter and she took a deep breath, preparing to face whoever might have been lurking behind her. If it was him, he'd come just in time, the town line was only a step away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! For those of you that are just checking out this fiction, welcome! For those of you who are a fan of the Moments Series, welcome back! I hope you'll enjoy this fiction. It's the third in the Moments Series, a series that is an attempt at an accurate portrayal of Belle's perspective during the Once Upon a Time series. This fiction features everything that happened while Belle was Lacey from the moment Regina gave her the memories in "Lacey" to the moment that Rumple gives her Belle back in "...And Straight On TIll morning". 
> 
> Because I am working to keep this series as accurate as possible, there might be changes made to this fiction, as needed. Should they be needed I'll add and edit chapters at the beginning of the winter and summer hiatuses. To keep up on those updates throughout the year you can follow Montreat11 on Twitter! I'll make sure to post info about updates as we go. If you enjoy this fiction, please bookmark or leave kudos or better yet comment! I always enjoy those wonderful gems waiting for me in my inbox and I love writing back to thank you personally for reading and reviewing! It helps me know that I'm doing a decent job. Peace and Happy Reading!


	2. Prison Break

"Wait!" she exclaimed looking back up at the dark haired woman. Regina, her name was Regina, and she'd been the town Mayor for as long as she could remember! She could remember! She turned her attention back to the matchbox in her hand. "I...I know what this is!" It came from her favorite bar, The Rabbit Hole, the only decent place to get a drink in this small town! But that didn't matter, what was important to her was that she knew the place! She was so happy she could have burst into song.

"I think I remember who I am," she said with an excited burst of laughter as she glanced at Regina. No, it wasn't a guess, she knew. It was all there. Her entire life was crystal clear again, the blank void of her life finally filling in, right up until the incident at the town line. Her memory of exactly what happened on that road was suddenly foggy as she stared at the matchbox, frankly so was everything that had happened after that, while she'd been here. Was that due to her injury? The staff told her that she'd been involved in a car crash, a car had hit her and she'd smacked her head against the pavement, losing her memories. A car. That must have been the light that she'd seen coming from behind her. Which meant what she thought she'd seen, Mr. Gold, the fire, the wound to her shoulder, none of that was true then! They really had been hallucinations! To think that she actually had thought she'd seen magic!

Regina shook her head and gave her a smile that she could tell wasn't genuine despite the miracle she'd just witnessed. She honestly had no idea why the Mayor had come, why she was pretending to be so happy for her when the only interaction she'd ever had with the woman was to vote for her in her first legal election. But, nevertheless, she was lucky she had come! What would have happened to her if she had just ignored the matchbox? If she'd never found it, she'd still be that mindless girl, waiting in her bed for…Mr. Gold!

As if she sensed her thoughts Regina's sneer seemed to peak, "Well, I'm sure Mr. Gold will be thrilled."

She had sleepy images of Mr. Gold, Ruby, and even Greg Mendell coming to see her. Their visits seemed strange to her now, she didn't know any of them, she was certain of that! So why had they come for her. Why would they...

Then she remembered. They didn't know her either, they only thought they did. It wasn't her they'd been looking for, it had been someone else, a women named Belle. How strange...she was certain she knew most people here, that was the consequence of living in a small town, but in all her life she was positive she'd never met anyone named Belle. And she was sure she would remember if she had, since the only way to explain why they'd all thought she was Belle was if she looked like the woman in some way or, judging from the number of people who thought she was Belle, if she strongly resembled her. How she'd lived day to day without meeting or even hearing about the woman was beyond her. They must really have been polar opposites and run with vastly different crowds in order for that to happen.

She shook her head. Who she looked like or how the mix up had occurred didn't matter, now. She needed to focus. The last thing she wanted was any more visits, which, if her memory since she got here was to be trusted, was going to happen soon. Mr. Gold, he was going to come back for her. It would be simple, all she had to do was tell him that she'd gotten her memories back and didn't need his hospitality any more. It should have been easy!

But her stomach seemed to curdle with guilt at the thought.

He'd looked so hopeful when she'd told him that she was starting to accept the fact that she might have known him. Obviously that had been a mistake, but she couldn't blame herself for it, he'd been very convincing. But it was over now. She didn't know him. He didn't know her. It was all just a simple misunderstanding. Still, she didn't know if she had the strength or the courage right now to let the poor man down yet again. She wasn't sure how he'd found her, but it was clear that it wasn't just an act, he really believed she was Belle, truly believed he knew her and she knew him. Well, of course she knew him, or more accurately knew of him, everyone in town did. Her father had been paying rent to the man since they'd first arrived in Storybrooke, but she'd never actually met him before this had happened.

He was different than people had described. She'd always had this irrational fear of the man because people talked about him like he was some devil with a cane, a real life villain. He was mean, unforgiving, and heartless! So why had he been the exact opposite toward her? Toward Belle? He'd spent the most time with her since she'd gotten here, couldn't he tell the difference between her and this Belle! No, apparently not. And she didn't think she could stand to break his heart when she told him that she wouldn't go with him. She wasn't sure why she cared so much, frankly, he wasn't her problem. She wasn't responsible for the state of his mental health or his feelings. It had been nice of him to pay for the room, but at the end of the day he thought he was paying for Belle's room and she wasn't her!

And fortunately she didn't have to break the news to him. The easiest thing to do was to get out of here, quickly as she could. Maybe then she'd never have to see Mr. Gold again. He'd figure out that she realized who she was, he'd realize she wasn't Belle, and they could both get back to their lives as if this incident had never occurred, which was what she was looking forward to the most right now. She needed a plan, she had to get out of here, and she had to do it before Mr. Gold could return.

She scrambled out of bed and ran her fingers through her hair, which definitely needed a good wash and condition. Not to mention her clothes, if they could even be called that. She was never going to get out of this place looking like a mindless frump. No, she had to think this through, before she could go anywhere she needed to change, to wear something else. But where could she find new clothes in a hospital?

A locker room. Yes! That was it! Surely a hospital had a locker room for the staff.

"Can I help you dear?" a voice cried out as she peered out the doorway to see if there was anyone around to catch her.

Regina. She'd nearly forgotten the Mayor still standing with her in the room.

"Uh..." she sighed as she looked the Mayor over and thought about her offer. It would be nice to have the Mayor on her side. But why? She was fine on her own. She had nothing, but she'd had nothing when her mother died too and she'd managed to put herself back together without anyone's help. She could do this by herself too. And just think how it would look when she got the big magazine interviews and they found out she'd gone from an amnesia victim to a strong independent designer all on her own. Damn, that practically wrote itself.

"No," she responded to the mayor, trying to at least be polite to the woman. She was the Mayor, after all. She might not want her help but that didn't mean she wanted to be on her bad side either. "Thank you for all you've done, but I'll be fine on my own from here." She offered her a small smile, then without another word, turned and walked out the door.

She wrapped the light jacket around her hospital attire, hoping that the passing staff would simply think she was a friend of a patient that had thrown on her pajamas in the middle of the night during an emergency. She got a few strange looks but no one stopped her, or yelled for her. She wandered for a few minutes just trying to think through her next steps, trying to figure out a plan of some kind, and then, like fate had finally chosen to intervene on her behalf, she found exactly what she needed. Two young nurses, they were wearing uniforms but they both had big totes and purses slung over their shoulders and were heading away from the exit. They'd just arrived and they'd need to put those bags somewhere while they worked.

She followed them at a distance, catching only every other word of their conversation about some baby shower they were excited to go to after they got off work; which, in her opinion, told her all she needed to know about what was in the bags: clothes. She just hoped they had some sense of style that wasn't as "mom-next-door" as they sounded. The women led her right to a locker room, just as she'd hoped. She followed, took note of the place they were stashing their belongings and went into a bathroom stall. She pressed her ear to the door and listened as they chatted for a few more moments before one of them made a comment like "let's get this over with" and she heard the door shut behind them. She crept out of the small bathroom and glanced around. It was empty, they wouldn't be back for hours, it was perfect.

She quickly opened one of the lockers and tore apart the bags. The first was disappointing: slacks and a sweater. The pants would fit, the sweater was too baggy for her tastes but would also fit and at least it wasn't a hospital gown. She reminded herself that she just needed them to get out of the building, then she could find something different. She set the pants and sweater aside and went through the second locker. Jackpot! The clothes weren't much better than the first, but it didn't matter, they wouldn't fit her if they had been better, they were too small, but the nurse had brought some killer stilettos that would fit her! And, at the bottom of the locker, there sat small travel bottles of generic shampoo, conditioner, and fragrant soap.

She didn't have long. She figured she had about thirty minutes before they realized she was missing and shut the hospital down to find her; forty-five minutes if she was lucky, but she didn't want to take that chance. Across the tiled room there was a single shower stall, there was nothing to dry her hair with but beggars could be choosy and at least it was something.

She collected her bounty, shut the lockers, and started the warm water. She showered quickly; just because she thought she had time didn't mean that anything was certain…at any moment they could come in and catch her. Although the prospect of being caught would usually have made it more fun, in this case, she just wanted out of this damn hospital, and if she got caught that would become a lot more complicated. So, without savoring the feeling of being herself again, she washed her hair and finger combed it so that it would dry faster. She pulled on the pants and sweater, wishing she had better underwear, then buckled the shoes, thank God they were at least acceptable.

When she was done she returned the toiletries to the woman's locker, no point in taking them with her. As a second thought she noticed the woman's purse sitting there. She hesitated for a moment, but curiosity finally got the best of her. There wasn't much, only forty-two dollars in cash, but she'd never taken money before, not from anyone's wallet, except maybe her father. She'd taken clothes, perfume, even make up and some essentials a couple of times she was in dire need but cash from a strangers wallet?! No, she'd never gone that far, even she had morals, despite what her father thought. But...things being what they were...

Her heart pounded against her rib cage as she stared at the bills in her hand. It would be a whole new level of bad behavior if she took this money and she knew it, but now that she'd left her fathers house it wasn't as if she had many options…or the time to think through them!

An announcement went out over the PA system. It was nothing important to her, but it surprised her enough to make her jump and remind her of the tense situation at hand. She really didn't have time to have a moral debate in her head over what to do with the money. That made the answer real easy for her then: take it. It was only forty-two dollars, the hospital surely had insurance for petty theft like this, they would refund the woman, and it wasn't as if they didn't owe her after everything she'd been through since she got here. The way she saw it the hospital was getting off easy.

She glanced at the clock. Based on the thirty minute time frame she'd given herself she had five minutes left. So she slipped the cash into the small pocket in the slacks then left the locker room. As casually as possible, she followed the signs for the exits, hoping no one would recognize her. Her heart beat fast and heavy in anticipation when she finally spotted the glass doors. Without a hint of regret, she pushed them open, then, finally, after weeks of wishing for freedom...she could smell the outside world!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it odd that sometimes I consider this the true first chapter? I don't know I always just thought of the last chapter as the introduction to Lacey. It's what I use to introduce you to the character, give you her backstory a bit of her life and history and then this is where we really start to get going with her. She's different right? I tried to make the writing a little different on purpose. Lacey curses, Belle doesn't. Lacey is a little overwhelming, Belle isn't. But underneath it all I did want there to be certain similarities and I hope that comes through in this chapter as well as the introduction.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	3. The Return of Lacey

She was out of the hospital. Great. Wonderful!

Now what?

First, she obviously needed to get as far away as possible and fast so that they wouldn't catch her. And so without looking too conspicuous she simply walked away from the building, not so quickly she would attract attention, but she certainly didn't take a leisurely stroll either. But finally, when she looked over her shoulder and could no longer see the building behind her, she knew her prison break could be considered mission accomplished. She'd done that much. Now all she needed was money, a ride out of this lousy excuse for a town, get to New York City, design some clothes, become rich and famous, and someday her father would see her on a magazine cover and feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet for not trusting her instincts and letting her follow her dreams in the first place. Then he'd realize how wrong he'd been about her. He'd see she was more than he always thought. Then he'd regret his lack of support.

But that dream was still a long way off. As easy as it all sounded, she wasn't some headstrong ignorant girl, she knew that it was going to take a lot more planning and money to make it all fall into place. And she had a lot more immediate needs right now than just showing up her father. She had to take things one step at a time. And first step was getting out of this hideous oversized sweater. The pants and shoes were one thing, but she needed something a little more her, and frankly she would like to have some underwear that could actually pass in society for underwear. She had a closet chock full of clothes at her father's house. He might be at work now and she might be able to break in and grab some things…but she would prefer to let him think that she had left town and not come looking for her. She could go to the store she'd worked at, but while she had been friendly with her co-workers she knew that she had no true friends there. They might cover for her, but they also might tell her father she was still in town, it was too risky.

She only had forty-two dollars to her name and she didn't want to spend it unless she had to. Fortunately, pinching money from a wallet might have given her pause, but taking clothes...now that was something she'd been doing so long that she was an expert at it. It was one of those things she'd learned by hanging out with the "wrong crowd" her father had hated so much. But what did the man expect?! It wasn't as if he was giving her money for clothes or fabric and she needed something to work on when they'd moved here! She'd learned quickly from others how to take the little things without anyone noticing: make-up, fake jewelry, the little items stores kept at the counter. And when she started working at a clothing store, learning their habits, flaws and all, well, it had only served to improve her skills. And at this point, she really didn't feel any guilt doing it. Especially from the small town shops run by idiots who were too stupid to buy cameras or invest in good security of any kind. As far as she was concerned it was just as much their fault for the thief. Besides, it wasn't like she was hurting anyone and chances were that by the time they figured out something was missing it would be weeks later and she'd be gone.

Mind made up, she set out for town, checking around corners as she made her way toward the clothing shops she had in mind, hoping her father wouldn't appear out of thin air to drag her home kicking and screaming. The first stop she made was a lingerie store which, while it wasn't busy, was the perfect place for her purposes. She wasn't going to get away for free, but her skill would get her one hell of a discount. She picked up some black lace panties, then stuffed one of the on sale bras into her pocket. She paid for the panties then asked the lady if she wouldn't mind if she used the dressing room and looked for some other items. The mention of a surprise for a boyfriend and the woman just smiled and nodded as she turned a brilliant shade of red. She couldn't believe it, the woman had actually blushed! She was working at an lingerie store for heavens sake, she really should get her virginal head out of the clouds and get a grip on the good lingerie could do for a girl!

The underwear was ten bucks, but it was a small price to pay for the bonus she would leave with. At the register she happened to see a pair of earrings and a decent bracelet and when the attendants back was turned she quickly snatched them up and hid them in the palm of her hand before the woman turned back with a receipt and wished her luck in her endeavors.

She meandered through the store picking up a bunch of bras in her size before retiring to the dressing room, where the kind but gullible girl handed her a card with the number six written on it. Overworked and underpaid, she knew the type well, they'd never see the ruse she was about to pull over on them until the next time they did inventory. She simply went into the dressing room picked out the black bra that went best with the panties she'd bought then pulled the sale bra she'd pick up out of her pocket and fitted it on the hanger. According to the card, she'd taken six items in, and six items would be coming out; just not the six items they'd planned on. She hooked the earrings through her lobes and pulled the bracelet on before walking out of the store the employees ignorant of what had happened. It was so easy it was laughable.

Next stop was to do something about this sweater! But finding a store for that wasn't hard and, just her luck, the store was actually crowded so she didn't have to worry about buying something first. If she played her cards right and just let herself get lost in the crowd then she would leave with what she needed without spending a dime! She picked out a few shirts, settling on a backless, sleeveless, blue one in particular. It wasn't the best thing in the world, it wasn't as good as what she would have designed, or as stylish as what they were wearing in Hollywood right now, but considering the position she was in, it would comfortable enough. And at least it was something closer to what she might wear. It had character...she liked character. But, even with her mind made up she threw a couple of sweaters and more conservative shirts into her bundle. She had too. She couldn't very well leave them five decent shirts and one baggy sweater. That would get her in trouble if the attendant could play "one of these things is not like the other".

She followed the same process before, taking the six items into the busy dressing room, thankfully the attendant barely looked at her. She found the blue shirt she'd initially been drawn to. No, it wouldn't have been her first choice if she was shopping, but then again she wasn't exactly shopping. Considering that, it had potential. She put it on and buttoned it up before glancing in the mirror. Damn, she'd need a different bra. The lacey edges peeked out from under the shirt and the backless part, what had initially drawn her to the piece, the damn bra cut a line right across it. She looked through the other shirts she'd picked out but she didn't like any of them nearly as much as this one, even with the bits of lace visible.

Screw it! What the hell was so unmentionable about unmentionables anyway? Everyone knew that they were there! And if it was going to be shown at least she'd done a good job at pinching something halfway decent. It was the perfect middle ground, sexy and yet, not slutty. It wasn't perfect, but it would get her through the day. She looked herself up and down in the mirror, before finding another little gem at her feet. A hair tie! It wasn't new, but her hair was almost dry and it was better than nothing. She pulled her hair out of her face and was happy to see that the image that met her in the mirror was finally one that she recognized. She was herself again.

Well…almost. Something was still missing.

She looked herself over again and then landed on the missing element. She could use a bit of make-up. And, frankly, what she really needed right about now was a drink! That was it! That was exactly what was missing from this picture. And she knew precisely what to do and where to go for those things.

She returned the hangers and number to the lady up front, who didn't notice the switch she'd made. She checked the time and smiled. The Rabbit Hole would be open. They always closed for a couple of hours just before the sun rose for cleaning, but they usually reopened soon afterwards. No one but the drunks who had serious problems with alcohol and nowhere to go would be there at this time. But then again, she didn't exactly have anywhere to go either. She had thirty-two dollars left in her pocket. It wasn't like it would buy her a room at the local B&B. And at least at the Hole she had a tab that wasn't due until the end of the month. She could get a drink, maybe something to eat, if only free peanuts, and she'd have a warm place to hang out for the day and think about her options and plans. Hell, she knew the night crowd well enough, she'd already spent the night with half the male regulars. Maybe someone would be willing to loan her their couch for a couple of extra nights…maybe more than a couch. She smiled at that thought, after being in the hospital for so long she could use a celebration.

She was free! Free from the hospital, from her father, from her old life! What wasn't there to celebrate? She beamed but shivered as she stood out in the chilly air, then made her way toward the bar. It was the one place since they'd moved to this little town where she always felt like she was welcome, not as something she wasn't, but just as she was and nothing more. Walking through the door and smelling the stale cigarettes and old bourbon was just as comforting to her as she imagined the smell of freshly brewed tea was to others. It seemed to calm her frayed nerves and eased the tension in her muscles that she hadn't even known had been there until now.

She stepped into the familiar room and went straight to to the bathroom. One of the waitresses was standing in front of the mirror, chewing gum, and applying make-up without a second thought not to do it around customers. Damn, luck really was on her side today. It was like the universe was just screaming at her "Sorry, Lacey, please forgive me!" Maybe she should spend a couple of bucks on a lottery ticket; the way her day was going she felt like she stood a decent chance at winning! "Could I use some of that?" she asked.

The woman shrugged and moved the bag a little closer to her side of the sink. "Help yourself."

Fortunately for her the waitress appeared to be taking her time with the make-up, wasting the boring day shift, where people really didn't need her, in the bathroom. After a moment, she felt put together again and beamed at herself in the mirror. All she needed now was a drink in her hand and the picture would be perfect. She went back to the bar and sat at her favorite seat on the corner, it even felt right. "What're you drinking?" the bartender asked.

She smiled. "Whiskey," she answered, the word so easily falling off her tongue it was like she'd been here yesterday. The bartender looked her up and down, considering her for a moment. Sadly, it wasn't the kind of considering that would help her. She'd always had the instinct to see right through people, to sense what they were thinking and what they were feeling, and right now he wasn't thinking about how she looked but rather where she came from. Oh God. She'd completely forgotten. She had no ID. Please, for the love of all things Holy, let her look like more than a twenty-one year old virgin skipping out on college classes for something a bit more exciting than  _Beowulf_.

"I'm in here all the time," she commented, trying to beat the bartender to the punch. "Look hard enough and you'll find that I already have an open tab," she pointed out.

"Good for you," he said sarcastically, filling a glass meant for her, "but I still need a name on that tab."

She smiled as he set the glass before her and she caught her reflection in the mirror against the back of the bar. Finally she was happy with what she saw. Now she was complete. Now she was the picture of the person she'd always been and it was as if that terrible night had never happened.

"Lacey," she informed him with happy confidence for the first time since the accident. "My name is Lacey."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She ba-a-ck. Or so she thinks. So, one of the hardest things in Moment is describing the little things that make sense for a TV show but not for real life. Regina gave Belle new memories, I don't think she was thoughtful enough to go use magic to get her a place to live, money, a bank account, or even a full closet of clothes. After all, she's trying to punish Rumple right, easiest way to do that is make Belle suffer. So, if Lacey has no money, no address, no closet...how did she get the clothes and how did she make her epic transformation from frumpy hospital gown to...well...you know what she's wearing. I did my best to explain it, I hope you think it's decent and now...on to the next!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	4. Celebrate Good Times

Fortunately the bartender didn't make her pay. In fact he didn't say anything about the money at all. She could only assume then that he'd found the tab that she had and it was enough to prove that at one time or another she'd been carded and was legal. Not paying was perfectly fine with her. It wasn't like she had a lot of money, only thirty-two dollars left and if she wanted to gamble on finding a "friend" to spend the night with, it might get her a decent lunch. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was hungry. It wasn't close enough to lunch yet, but she was starving. The question was just how hungry was she? Hungry enough to consider losing a few of her precious dollars? No. She wasn't that desperate. Not yet. Instead, she picked at the peanuts in the bowl in front of her, trying to make it casual enough that no one would suspect this was her snack and breakfast.

She sighed as she munched, her mind once again coming to one conclusion: she couldn't stay here forever. She wished she could, after her stay at the hospital the bar was comforting and just overall good for her soul. It wasn't perfect but for a place like Storybrooke this was as good as it got. But unfortunately she wasn't rich, she didn't have her job any more she supposed, surely her father would have called in to work that she was gone, or after all this time they'd figured out she'd quit, and God only knew what had happened to her wallet or where her debit card was. She hadn't bothered to take the purse that they'd brought to her in the hospital, clearly it wasn't hers, for all she knew it was the real Belle's purse. She should probably be worried about that. Her license was a problem, but easily fixed, the credit card belonged to her father so she really didn't care what happened to that, her debit card was the biggest loss but no one knew her pin number so it could be worse. Going to the police station to file a report with Sheriff Graham would have to go on her long list of "Things To-Do" along with going to the bank.

For now…well, her options were limited, but not non-existent. She'd already decided that she couldn't go back to her old job, but there were plenty of jobs left in town. Hell, she could go back to one of those shops she'd been in today and probably find a job. Tomorrow was starting to form before her eyes: police, bank, and jobs. But it was the time between now and then that worried her. She still needed a place to stay. She could stay at the B&B maybe, but that required more money than she had...

She shook her head. She was beautiful, she'd been told that her entire life, and she was friendly enough when she wanted to be. She'd find somewhere to spend the next couple of nights. Even if she needed to come back here every night to find a new place, it wasn't like it would be tragic. If memory served her correctly, her tab wasn't due until the end of the month, that gave her plenty of time to scrap together some money, a job, and with any luck an affordable apartment. One step at a time. Short term goals now. Long term later.

"Haven't seen you here before," she glanced over a couple of seats to find the face that belonged to the voice she'd heard. It was a middle-aged man, not exactly handsome but also not the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. Besides, what she liked best was his demeanor. Though it might have sounded like a pick up line, the tone, and one look at his face, told her that he was genuinely curious about her sudden appearance. How could he not be curious? They were the only ones in here that didn't look like they were normally here during the day. It made sense to her.

"I'm not usually in during the day," she explained.

"Ah," he nodded, making a motion for another beer. "Taking a sick day?"

"I should ask you the same thing," she commented picking up on the sound of a stuffy nose.

He shrugged. "Allergies."

She nodded and turned back to her peanuts, intending to end the conversation there, but then cast him a curious sideways glance. It wasn't as if there was anything else interesting going on this time of day. "So was that a 'yes' or 'no' on the sick day thing?"

He gave a snort and his lips curved into a smirk. "Not exactly, I just needed a break, this town…" his voice trailed off as he stared into his mug shaking his head in strange disbelief.

"What about it?" she asked suddenly becoming the curious one. Did he also despise the small town? Did they have that much in common?

He shook his head, like he was still trying to wrap his head around something. "It's just..." he sighed like he was still trying to find the words. "I feel like I went to sleep and when I woke up everything had changed overnight. I had a good life and now I feel like I'm...missing something-like I lost something…but can't remember what."

His words had made her heart pound again. She knew that feeling well. Hell, she still knew it! Her mind still couldn't piece together the events that had taken place at the town line perfectly and she felt sorry for the poor guy. But that was no reason to sulk around at the bar. If he was taking a day off then he deserved to escape if only for a few moments. That's what bars were for! And hey, nice as he was, maybe if she made an impression she could spend the night on the couch. Making friends could only help her at the moment.

She finished what was left of her drink and pushed herself off the stool. "Well, if you're playing hooky you may as well enjoy it!" she insisted. "You play pool?"

Finally she got a friendly smile out of him. "No, never been very good at it."

"Come on, you can't be  _that_  bad!" Suddenly, a brand new idea struck her at his words and she found a new way to make a couple of dollars to add to her current stash while also making friends with the stranger. "Hey," she slapped the bar, making a few of the regular drunks jump at the noise. "We're going to need shots, put it on my tab!" Then she practically dragged the man over to the pool table.

"What's all this about?" he asked sounding a little put off by her eagerness. She didn't particularly care. He had talked to her first and besides, though the bar was getting a slow trickle of new visitors, it was a while until anyone from her crowd showed up. She needed something to do. He needed something to take his mind off the town. They were a match made in heaven.

"We are playing pool," she pulled out her one twenty dollar bill and confidently set it on the side, "winner takes all."

The stranger looked between her and the money, considering the offer before him. But, finally smirked, took out his wallet, and laid a twenty of his own on top of hers. "Can't see how this could go wrong for me," he said with a sarcastic laugh before sneezing. He knew he was going to lose before beginning and still was willing to play with her and give up the money. She'd been right. He was a good guy.

"Ah, it's a celebration," she commented as the waitress she'd shared make-up with brought her, their first set of shots, which she promptly swallowed down, ignoring the burn it left in her throat. "We've got to have a bit of fun somehow."

"What're we celebrating?" he asked as he set the drink closer to her, a silent admission that he didn't want it.

"I just got out of the hospital."

His eyes widened as she tossed down the second shot. "You're not on meds are you?!"

She snorted at the friendly concern he exhibited. "What are you, a doctor?"

"No, I...I..." he closed his eyes and took a step toward her "I'm the pharmacist, I'm Tom Clark. I run Dark Star Pharmacy," he explained. "If you're on medication you really shouldn't be drinking…"

She held up her hand to silence him. "Relax, Tom," she interrupted. His concern was sweet she supposed, it made for a good friend, but she wasn't looking for a friend just a friendly acquaintance to win a couple twenty's off in pool and maybe crash on a couch. She'd had enough of "sweet" after her experience. "I'm not on drugs," she reassured him as she set up the balls up for a game of eight-ball and muttered "I'm Lacey by the way," as she began the game.

She won. It wasn't much but hell it was twenty more dollars than she'd had before! Tom Clark wasn't lying, he really had no idea how to play the game, but he appeared to be having a good time. In the end he was happy just to make a challenge and watch her try to beat them. He'd set a few dollars on the table and make some request; they started out simple, things like "I bet you two dollars you can't get that ball in that pocket!" but the requests got harder and crazier as the hour passed-"two solid balls in two separate pockets one has to hit that side". She never even blinked and made the shot each and every time, silently counting her current cash flow with each accomplished challenge: fifty-two, fifty-six, sixty, sixty-three, sixty-eight. Finally he set seven dollars on the side "ok, ok," he muttered looking at the table as the waitress dropped off another shot on the corner of her table. "Two solid balls, one has to hit that side and the other has to hit the opposite side before at least one of them goes into that pocket, and you can't move the 8 ball."

She ran over the request in her head, making sure she had it all and then examined the table. Easy. She leaned over and positioned the cue, double checking everything. Then took aim and took the shot. She smiled with pride as she was now the proud own of seventy-five dollars. A room at Granny's it was! And a decent dinner. Hell, maybe she could even get ice cream tonight! She reached over and swallowed down a celebratory shot. "Five bucks says you can't do that again," Tom smiled. She laughed at the prospect as she examined the table…yep, it was definitely doable. She leaned down and struck the balls again...and accomplished the challenge. He smiled at her, a look that told her that he'd known all along she'd make it. Maybe she could keep the money and spend the night on his couch instead. It would be the smart thing to do. It would be-

"Belle!" came a sudden confused voice from across the table. It was a name that she knew too well, and a voice that she wished she didn't. She kept the smile on her face even though her gut had just dropped into the pit of her stomach. How had he found her so quickly?! It wasn't even lunch yet! And for that matter why did he want to find her? She'd run off! Didn't he get the picture?

She looked him over and offered a smile. What more could she do to get the message through to this guy?! "Ah, names Lacey," she corrected as he looked her up and down with stern eyes, like he couldn't believe what had happened to her since he last saw her. Was that really only this morning? A couple of hours ago?

"Her name should be Fast Eddy," Clark commented with a smile from behind him. "She's a hustler...she's hustling me," he joked and took a swallow of beer. She did her best to ignore Mr. Gold and laugh at the joke, a welcome distraction. It wasn't exactly 'hustling' if he knew what she was doing and was continuing to allow it. And, for that matter, it wasn't as if Clark hadn't been having a good time either. He was laughing and smiling right along with her!

"Do you remember me?" Mr. Gold asked, suddenly bringing her attention back to the man who clearly wasn't catching on to the joke or the fun atmosphere now that more people had come around. God forbid that happened! But how could she be surprised by that. He also hadn't caught on to the fact that she didn't know him. She wouldn't have left the hospital if she did!

She looked him up and down, trying not to let his mood or his actions damper the good time she was having tonight. She was free, she knew who she was! And he wasn't going to distract her from that. "Guy who visited me in hospital, sure I do," she announced proving that she could remember his previous role in his life easily enough. She didn't have a memory problem anymore, but if he was here, still insisting that she was Belle, then apparently he did. This should be easy though. She hadn't known who she was before to set him straight, but now she did. All he needed was a reminder that she wasn't who he thought she was and hopefully he'd be gone. "But now I remember who I am," she pointed out quickly averting her eyes back to the pool table, "and that's Lacey. Now, if you'll excuse me you're kinda in my shot..."

She moved around the stunned looking Mr. Gold and made another shot as if he wasn't there. Clark followed her lead, nervously casting him glances over her back, but still ignored him as they continued on with their little game. Gold watched for a while longer. Then after a few tense moments shook his head, and stormed off, still looking like he'd just witnessed a terrible accident. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as he disappeared and felt that stab of guilt in her stomach, again, the one he'd only been able to cause in her, and prayed that he'd finally gotten the message. With any luck that was the last time she'd see anything of Mr. Gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved seeing Belle play pool with Sneezy. That was such a good choice on the writers part. It figures that somehow the two people in town who have had their memories wiped would somehow find each other and bond. Pharmacist...hustler...see kids, amnesia brings people together!
> 
> Peace and Happy Readings!


	5. Other Options

Tom Clark was a decent man. She didn't mention anything about her money situation, but he seemed to have some how put it together on his own. After Mr. Gold left them, they'd continued to make bets on her pool playing until she had over a hundred dollars, enough for a room and a meal, maybe even a little left over for a safety net! And yet, despite her winnings, he still bought her lunch. It was just an appetizer order of bar wings, but it tasted so much better than the tasteless hospital mush she'd been eating. And, the fact that it was free and she could keep the little she'd earned...that was the best part.

She couldn't figure out why he was being so nice to her, even if he did assume that she didn't have a penny to her name aside from what she'd won off him. Could he sense that she was in some kind of trouble? That she was down on her luck or just suffered a great trauma? Was it just in his nature to take care of wayward souls...or victims of mistaken identity? Or could he sense that she was missing even the smallest part of her memory or life and they were silently bonding over that? Then again, with what he'd shared about how he felt about town, maybe he was just enjoying getting away from his life and feeling normal for a change and forgetting what he felt outside the bar. If that was the case then she was happy to help with that. After all, what were bars for?

But then, after lunch, when the crowd was finally really picking up but still wasn't the group she usually associated with, he stood up and called for the bill. "You're leaving?" she asked, trying not to sound disappointed that she was about to be on her own again. So much for the couch at his place, maybe the B&B was in her future after all.

"Yeah..." he said through his stuffy accent. "I promised I'd meet some people."

"Well..." she turned and leaned against the bar, drawing out the words as she tried to figure out how to end their brief but still pleasant encounter. "It's been fun, Tommy!"

He gave her another small smile and pulled something out of his wallet. For a moment, she thought he might give her money, but instead he pulled out a business card turned it over and wrote a phone number on it before handing it to her. "Here," she took it and saw the number for the Dark Star Pharmacy written on one side and what looked like his cell phone number on the other. "In case you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Uh..." she stared down at it. How had she managed to find the "sweet" guy again? God, she was like a magnet for that type these days! But after their afternoon, the way he'd fed her...she couldn't bring herself to be angry about it. She genuinely liked Clark and at least he'd called her Lacey instead of Belle. "Thanks Dad!" she said, laughing it off but still pocketing the card for safe keeping. He nodded and reached out to squeeze her shoulder before leaving the bar. She sighed as she was suddenly left to entertain herself yet again.

Well, so far her plan was working, the idea of taking it one moment at a time suited her. She supposed her next step was to think about dinner. It was still hours away and there wasn't much to think about considering the heft of cash she now had in her pocket, but thinking about anything would give her something to do. Maybe what she should be more concerned about was dying of boredom in the space between now and then. When the bartender came around again she ordered a tequilla shot and a refill on the whiskey. He complied before picking up the rag and resuming his wipe down of the bar. Perfect. She didn't need company, this was all she needed to chase away the loneliness and make her brief solitude more tolerable. It was the rest she would need before her acquaintances came in after dinner.

She went ahead and licked a bit of salt from the back of her hand, drank the shot, and sucked the juice out of the lemon slice as someone sat down next to her in the place Clark had left empty. "Another round for the lady!" the stranger ordered as she handed the lemon peel over to the bartender and picked up her unfinished whiskey. She risked a glance over at the man who had taken the seat. "I've had my eye on you for a while," he added as she met her gaze.

She had to fight not to roll her eyes. It wasn't the worst pick up line she'd ever heard, but it certainly wasn't one of her favorites. Although it was telling, if he'd really had his eyes on her for "a while", as he suggested, then the feeling wasn't mutual. She hadn't noticed him milling about and frankly couldn't even remember him coming in, even though she'd been watching the door for friends. No, she hadn't noticed him at all. He simply hadn't stood out to her even in the slightest. And looking him over now it was clear why. He was dressed in leather, trying to pull off the classic bad boy look, but it was a little too classic for her tastes. She could see the ruse hidden behind his gaze. He was as much a bad boy as she was the Belle woman. The only classic he was representing tonight was a classic wannabe pretending to look for trouble. She might have been desperate for a place to stay, but with the money and Clark's card in her pocket, she wasn't that desperate. Besides, the night was still young, hell, it hadn't even begun yet, certainly she'd get other, better offers.

"Thank you!" she nodded in a chastising voice. "Not my type!" she added quickly, turning her attention back to the bartender and away from the greasy man trying too hard to be something he clearly wasn't.

"Name's Keith," he continued on as if he hadn't heard her. This time she did roll her eyes. If there was one thing worse than cheesy pick-up lines it was useless persistence.

"Good for you," she muttered taking another swallow.

Keith sighed, and for a moment she thought that he might have resigned himself to defeat. Not that she cared. She was certain somewhere there was a girl that went for his particular brand of sleaze; maybe he'd have better luck with her. "So I saw you talking with Gold earlier," he continued "aren't the two of you…"

"We are  _not_  together," she stressed becoming more and more irritated that people kept trying to force the two of them together. That had been one of the good thing about Tom Clark, he didn't push the man at her, or mistake her for Belle, or assume anything at all. Frankly that was what she liked about bars like this, people understood to only look at who you wanted to be on the surface. That was why bars existed! To give people a break from their real lives and be someone completely different! Hell, she could take people assuming crap about her, so long as it was about her and not Belle…or Mr. Gold.

And what the bloody hell was his first name anyway! She hadn't felt so proper calling someone "Mr." since high school!

"Sorry," he said feigning insult at the verbal attack. "I just wouldn't want a pretty girl like you to fall in with a monster like that."

Seriously? Pretty girl? She hadn't been a girl in a decade and with an outfit like this "pretty" wasn't exactly what she was going for. "I'm a pretty good judge of who to 'fall in with' all on my own, thanks," she commented. "Besides, he's gone now, and unless you are a bottle of tequila, then I don't need you. Or your help." It was blunt, but she hoped it was good enough to get him to leave. She'd rather have the stigma of only attracting sweet men than this pest. And frankly she'd rather "fall in with a monster" than this man…not that Mr. Gold was a monster. She would have picked up on power like that in a heartbeat. But for everything that the town said about him, she hadn't seen a single ounce of the beast they made him out to be in all the time that she'd known him. Pity.

"Do you, uh, need a shoulder to cry on?" Keith asked giving his best impression, she was sure, of a dashing smile. Lord have mercy and spare her from pathetic last ditch efforts like this!

"Not interested."

"Are you sure?" he asked, "I'm told that I am a great-"

" _Not_ interested," she repeated harshly, sparing him from the "I'm a great listener" line. Sure, he would be a great listener, if by "listener" he meant that he'd stare at her while she prattled on and on about the woes of her life all the while casting glances at her cleavage and wondering what she looked like naked, then sure, he'd be a great listener. But, she had no "woes" at the moment, those had gone from her when she'd freed herself from the hospital. She didn't need a knight in shining armor, she'd already saved herself, and she sure as hell didn't need a "good listener" just a drink.

After a pause when she feared Keith was regrouping from her backlash he finally stood up. "My offer stands," he told her, "come find me if you change your mind."

"I'll keep that in mind," she responded sarcastically as she watched him go. Change her mind? Not likely. Which was a shame, really, because wannabe or not, he did have a body she could stare at all day.

She took a another drink and reminded herself once more that she wasn't that desperate, but saved the knowledge of Keith in the back of her mind under "Plan-if-all-else-fails". Of course, fortunately for her, there was quite a way to go before she got to that plan. First was to try and explore her other options tonight when more people began to arrive, then call Clark, then the B&B, and if by some mysterious miracle Granny's was full she might bite the bullet and consider Ole-Keith. She'd gotten drunk and gone home with worse to be honest. But that didn't mean that she wasn't going to fight like hell to explore her other options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to fill in some of this scene. I've never been to a bar before, (lame right, a quarter of a century old and I've never had a drink) but I hope that I've got the idea of Keith about right and got his character down. I fell like I did, but ya'll are the final judges. What says you? Keith's character, yay or nay?
> 
> Thank you for your awesome comments on the last chapter Marisa I'm glad you are out there enjoying the story. It's always nice to know it wasn't written for nothing! Peace and Happy Reading!


	6. The Caged Beast

She was just beginning to breathe a sigh of relief at Keith's departure when the seat next to her was suddenly filled again. Damn, it wasn't even after dinner, yet! How much of this was she going to have to deal with before-

She glanced over and couldn't catch the sound of surprise that escaped from her throat. Mr. Gold…again.

What was he doing back here? She had felt so sure that the bar scene wasn't exactly his thing! But then again she had felt sure that when he'd found her before she had made it clear about who she was and would never see him again! She hadn't wanted to ever see him again. One look at his worn saddened face had the ability to send waves of guilt washing through her and no one in her life had ever made her feel guilty before. Not her father. Not her teachers. So why would this man, who she barely knew, be able to bring that repressed feeling out in her? She didn't like it. She didn't want to feel it! She just wanted him to go away! She wanted to be able to tell him that, but that stupid feeling kept her from being harsh when she knew that was exactly what she needed to be! Why was it so damn hard to yell at him? To tell him to go away and never come back? It had been easy enough with Keith!

"Mr. Gold..." she looked him over as if she could find some reason for the feeling, but nothing obvious hit her. Was it the cane? His age? No, none of those things. So what then?! What the hell was it about this man? "You're, uh...you're back!" she commented.

"As are you," he pointed out and she couldn't help but snort at the remark. Apparently he didn't realize that she'd never left.

"Well, what can I say? Love the ambiance..." she explained away with a snort. Being here all day was better than anywhere else in town but if she had it her way she'd be halfway to New York City right now. She'd spend tonight drinking in a bar far classier than this place, not trying to figure out where she was going to stay the night or how to get rid of people she didn't want to talk to hounding her.

Mr. Gold was silent for a moment after her comment and she got the feeling that he didn't really know what to expect from her. Frankly she didn't either. What did he want? What more could she say to him? She'd already pointed out that she wasn't his Belle, he should have lost interest in her by now, not continue coming back for her. It was awkward sitting there in the silence with him. Not only was it awkward, it was unsettling. It made her feel like she was right back at the hospital, in the early days after the accident. He would come in and sit, she wouldn't say anything, she just sat there staring at the wall wondering why he was there and what he wanted when she didn't know who he was. Things hadn't changed much between then and now. The only difference was now she knew who she was and knew that she'd been right all along. She had no connection to him. It was all in his head.

Finally she picked up on a tendril of hope for their current situation. Awkward. Discomfort. Could she make him leave the same way she'd made her father regret the decision to move? Could she make their interaction so uncomfortable that he didn't want anything more to do with her and leave her alone? Mr. Gold clearly didn't belong in a place like this, maybe all she needed was to make it even more obvious to him. Maybe all she needed to do was show him how different she really was from the woman he once believed her to be. He could leave without feeling bad and she didn't have to lie or scream at him…she just had to be herself. And figure out a way to make their differences noticable.

In the silence her ears picked up the unfamiliar music coming from the sound system. "What the bloody hell's that!" she asked looking over at the jukebox. It wasn't terrible. It wasn't exactly her favorite, but it certainly wasn't as terrible as she was going making it out to be. She just hoped it would serve its purpose. "Let's get some Panama up in here. You, ah, you like Van Halen?" she asked, feeling confident he'd never heard of the group in his life. "You're a Hey Girl man aren't you! Uh?"

She knew that she'd been right as his face fell again. He had no idea what she was talking about and he finally seemed to be losing interest by the second. He didn't respond to her, but also couldn't bring himself to get up and leave first. She decided to make it easy on him and got up off the stool herself to look at the jukebox. She had no coins, of course, only bills from pool, but that wasn't the purpose of coming over here. As she examined the selections her back was turned, she was giving him the perfect opportunity to leave. He didn't have to say good-bye, he didn't have to make some obscure excuse, he could just go the same way she had left the hospital. For heaven's sake let the man be gone when she turned around again!

"Uh, Lacey?"

"Yeah?" No such luck. Her heart fell at the voice behind her. Couldn't he take a hint? She'd been polite, she'd outright left, she'd turned him down, she'd broken that cup of his, and she'd given him a back door out of their little predicament! What more could she do?!

"Now, that you're back to your old self," he said attempting a smile, "perhaps we could spend some time together."

She stared at him for a moment, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. She couldn't help it, she hadn't expected him to suggest something like that. Was he really asking her out?! "Like a date?" she clarified, wondering if he even knew the meaning of the word "date."

"Yes, a date," he nodded a little too eagerly. He really wasn't getting the picture, she'd wanted him to take steps away from her not closer! But, frankly, she felt kind of bad for the man and his inability to understand what was happening. Was it the strange guilt that she felt causing that sympathy? She should tell him no. She should tell him to leave. She should stop dancing around assumptions and give the man the straight up truth: she wasn't Belle, she wasn't who he thought she was, and he needed to leave! But she just couldn't make the words form on her tongue.

Good God, she wasn't actually attracted to him was she?! It was just the guilt! Right?! She'd almost prefer that to true attraction in this case. He wasn't a bad guy, she could see that. But that was also the problem. He'd been sweet to her while she was in the hospital, but she usually didn't go for sweet.

But then again from what she knew about him "sweet" wasn't the first word many in the town would use to describe Mr. Gold. In fact, Keith had warned her about him, however selfishly, and called him a monster. He surely didn't get that reputation just by being mean to someone one time or not tipping waitresses enough or even by being anti-social. So how did this Mr. Gold in front of her become known for being a monster?

She'd always been able to see right through people, to see their true selves, was that what was happening now? Maybe he wasn't as sweet as he'd seemed. It was a curious thought, was there something else there? Was there some hidden beast kept contained that was calling out to her from confinement? She could get behind that idea and she was curious to see what exactly was so monstrous about this sweet man. And hell, she'd try anything once! She couldn't believe she was really going to agree to this when only a moment ago she'd been so determined to get rid of him. But she did want to make one thing abundantly clear before she agreed to anything.

"Well, you do know that I'm not this Belle that you're always talking about?"

"Yes, of course," he said with a small shake of his head.

He was lying.

It was obvious. He had stilled noticeably at the name. His mouth said one thing but his face said another and his eyes wavered between two emotions. It confused her, she usually could sense intentions and emotions with ease, simply by sight. But he was unreadable to her. The closest she could get to describe it was that his eyes were doing a Jekyll and Hyde shift. One minute he felt one emotion and the next he expressed the complete opposite. But he was going back and forth to fast for her to really identify what those emotions were exactly. None of it made sense to her. Why was he trying so hard to convince her to go out with him, if he wasn't even sure he wanted it himself?

"I've heard about you, you know," she burst out, unsure why she felt the need to explore whatever was going on inside this peculiar man more. What could she say; she was curious. "People in town, they're afraid of you, Mr. Gold."

He looked away from her, and although she couldn't read his eyes, she knew she'd hit a nerve of some kind. "Don't let that deter you," he encouraged almost angrily. "Give me a chance, please," he begged. Well that was certainly one thing she never thought he would do: beg. It was strange. It was like he was two people, like he was trying to fight an inner demon of some sort. But why do it around her? Why not do it around the rest of town? Still she'd be lying if she said the prospect didn't excite her on some level. What kind of monster was lurking beneath him? Habit taught her that the badder the boy the more irritated her father would become, but she forgot for a moment that she was never going home, and she didn't have to let that thought control her life any more. But still, the only thing more motivating than revenge might have been downright curiosity. And she couldn't help it, she was interested as hell about him right now...and, if she was honest with herself, interested about the real Belle that had drawn him to her in the first place. At the very least there was an interesting story there.

"Okay," she muttered "tonight, Granny's..." she instructed picking a safe place for the both of them to meet. It may have been a diner run by an old woman, but she knew this wasn't his scene. And La Tandoor was too nice and might only promote the wrong idea he was already having trouble dismissing in his head. Maybe with the right setting she could get him to talk and get an explanation for all of this. Not to mention she did need something to eat. Not hospital food, not peanuts on the bar, or an appetizer. Real food. If she was going to make a date with the elusive and mysterious Mr. Gold she may as well get a free meal out of it and solve her dinner problem. She never thought she'd even think the words but Granny's, for once, was the perfect place to go. "8:00" she muttered finally, before walking away from him and wondering what, if anything, would come of the decision she'd just made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, fun fact did you know there was another place to eat in Storybrooke? Well...of course there is but you know what I mean, did you know there was another place to eat in Storybrooke on main street besides Granny's? I didn't either. But in my research for writing Moments I was lucky enough to stumble upon a map of Main Street StoryBrooke. It has all of the actual places in Steveson and shows what they become when the crew comes in to dress Main Street as Storybrooke! And much to my surprise, the more I explored, I found that there is a very nice place to eat on main street called La Tandoor, which remains La Tandoor when Storybrooke comes to town. Go figure right.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	7. Plotting

She didn't even bother to look back to see if Mr. Gold left...oh screw it! If she was going to date the man she was at least going to call him just plain old "Gold" instead of feeling like a high school biology student all over again! Although now that she thought about it, for the man that she'd heard about around town, not the strange gentler one that she was apparently dealing with, she supposed "Mister" suited him better than any first name she could think of. He wasn't a Charles, Michael, or Robert. He was above something fancy like Anthony or Francis. And the thought of calling him something like Fred or Bobby was just funny. Yes, she supposed "Mister" or "Gold" was better than any of those names, and frankly "Gold" suited her just fine...or at least better than Mr. Gold.

No, instead of making sure that  _Gold_ left, she made her way over to the pool table and began to collect the balls that hadn't moved from the pockets since she and Clark had played earlier. It wouldn't be as much fun by herself, but it was something to do to keep her mind off of whether or not she'd made a good choice for the night. As she reached into the last pocket she suddenly found another hand joining hers in the small space. The sudden contact made her reach back as she stared at Keith, pulling the last two balls out of the pocket for her, and eyeing her with suspicion. Or maybe just like a hungry wolf. Yeah, he was a "great listener" alright!

"Didn't you just say you and Gold weren't together anymore?"

She rolled her eyes as she grabbed the balls out of his hand and sent them rolling across the table. "We never were," she muttered, frustrated to be having this conversation yet again.

"Could have fooled me," he whispered under his breath.

She grabbed a cue and let the end hit the floor with a loud thud. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Keith shrugged once again giving her a false look of "sorry I didn't mean to hurt your feelings". But he quite obviously always meant for her to hear the comment, and he wasn't sorry about anything. "The word around town, it always sounded like the two of you were close. Even before."

"Before what?" she asked, hoping at some point he would stop talking in code and start to make actual sense.

"Oh you know before," he shrugged before pulling out the triangle and racking the balls. No she most certainly did not know! It was irritating as hell. But now she wasn't just curious she was worried. Was she missing a memory of some kind? Was there some obvious "before" that he was talking about? An earthquake or a famine? The dreaded day Keith had decided to move to town?!

Frustrating as it was, she still managed to keep her cool, put on a good poker face, and not show her worry for even a second. Instead she raised her eye brows and gave him an annoyed look, that she hoped was giving him the message to expand on what he was saying.

"You know, before all this..." he raised his hands and indicated what must have been the bar around them. What was that supposed to mean? Before she'd come into the bar? Before the accident? Before she'd come to Storybrooke? None of that made sense either!

She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about." This was ridiculous. To begin with she wasn't going to play twenty questions with him and it really didn't matter at all because at no point in time had she ever met Mr. Gold before the accident, and after the accident she wouldn't exactly say she'd been close to him. The only reason she was going out with him was because she was curious about why he'd hung around so long…and, maybe, she felt a little sorry for the old man. Clearly he was searching for something. The something wasn't her, but if she could manage to get up enough courage to maybe let the guy down then she wouldn't be in this predicament. "And I think you're mistaking me for someone else, certainly wouldn't be the first time for me," she mumbled as she leaned down to line up her shot and take it. The sound of the clanking balls and thud as they fell into their pockets gave her a satisfying feeling.

"No, I'm sure," he went on, picking up a cue for himself and observing the board, "I couldn't forget that day on the road if I tried. But only if I was cursed, of course..." he chuckled to himself as she took another shot, but she wasn't paying attention to the game anymore. His words had struck her like a slap in the face.

"On the road? You...you were there that night?"

He peered up at her from his place at the board. "What night?"

"The-the night of the accident," she stuttered, searching his eyes for some recognition. It was the only part of her memory that she still couldn't seem to put together completely. She had the memories leading up to it, and the memories of car lights, and being in the hospital, but the rest she assumed were the hallucinations from the pain meds she'd been on or her injuries. The space between was simply missing aside from the hallucinations, and she was desperate to know what had actually happened that night so she could fill it in. Maybe even hoping that if she knew what happened it might spark her real memories and give her answers on why she'd dreamt up what happened on the road. "The night I got hit by the car at the town line? You were there?!"

Keith stood up straight, his smile vanishing into serious shock at her words. "You crossed the town line?!"

His pronouncement seemed to shock her enough to get control of the situation back and she shrugged at his shock over such a stupid thing. You know you live in a small town when people think you've taken a long trip just by crossing the town line. "I don't know! Maybe...I suppose...I don't know...I don't really remember, that's why I'm asking!" she stated harshly, even for her. She hadn't meant to lose her temper, but she hadn't known how desperate she was for that memory until just now. She shook her head, trying to shake it off as she leaned down and lined up another shot to calm her nerves and distract herself.

"Whatever," she had to get a hold of herself. She'd gotten to the hospital somehow, maybe she'd try asking Gold tonight. After all, even if her vision of him at the line was a lie, he'd certainly found her at the hospital soon enough, maybe he knew what had happened that night. How had Mendell hit her? Who had found them? Why she'd had hallucinations of…

She made her shot. She was being ridiculous and paranoid. She was sure she'd get her answers in time. And, really, she'd only gotten her memory back this morning, maybe with time it would come back to her all on its own. "I'm over it," she lied, crossing to the other side of the table.

"So Gold…"

She straightened her frustration at his insistence growing. "I never even met him before the accident! He thinks I'm some woman named Belle. The only reason I agreed to go out with him is because I felt sorry for him."

"Sorry?" he laughed "For Mr. Gold?" She nodded and returned her attention back to the board. "For the ruthless most powerful man in town? You felt sorry for the man that built his power on blood?"

That was something she hadn't heard. "Blood?" she questioned, "he's violent?"

Keith stared at the table. "Only if you're foolish enough to cross him," he muttered before chewing on his tongue. Nervous habit? Or memory of a broken jaw or split lip?

"Well, I'm a pretty good judge of character and I just don't see it."

"Lucky," he muttered, finally coming out of his trance and taking another shot. "You know, I could go with you, make sure you're safe. I was a sheriff in another life."

"Three's a company."

"I could wait outside."

"And what?" she laughed "Protect me from a fearsome beast or Granny's over-praised lasagna?"

"Either one. Or both. Or none. Or anything you want."

Wow. That didn't take long. Wannabe or not she had to admit he was a persistent little hunter. "I can take care of myself," she said spotting the last shot of the "game" they were playing, even if they'd never actually stated what the game was. She leaned down, lined it up, and suddenly felt him pressing against her hip.

"Sometimes taking care of yourself isn't all it's cracked up to be," he whispered.

Damn! She scratched. Though how could she not have with a distraction like that?! And Keith was smiling again, only this time in triumph, as she stood defeated, still trying to put together what exactly had happened. He walked around the table and put the ball in the pocket. Winner. "If you know what I mean," he winked. He actually winked!

And, yes, for the record, she knew exactly what he meant. But after this conversation she found he didn't bother her nearly as much as he had when she first met the guy. He wasn't brilliant, it was true, and he wasn't exactly the definition of the "bad boy" that she usually preferred. But he was more than an option right now, he was an offer. And unlike the offer she'd gotten from Clark, this one promised more than a couch. With any luck, some fun would come from this one too. Amazing. Sometime in the last two hours he'd gone from Plan D to Plan B. Not a bad progression in that amount of time. Frankly it spoke louder than anything she'd seen of him so far. Although she had to admit, the alcohol in her system, after having nothing in the hospital, was probably working in his favor as well.

"Maybe so..." she commented. "But how on earth would I explain the after date standing outside of my real date?"

"Does he even know what a date is?"

She gave a small snort and shook her head, she couldn't defend Gold on that one, not when she'd had the very same thought earlier today. "Well, old doesn't mean blind and last I checked Granny's was full of windows."

He gave a small chuckle. "Not in the back. And besides sometimes I like to go out that way to have a smoke anyway."

She smiled at the unspoken plan they were hatching. It wasn't as if she expected anything to come out of the meeting with Gold. She'd either see the beast everyone accused him of being or she wouldn't, and instinct told her that it wasn't likely she'd see anything worth her time. All she needed to do was sit down, have a rational discussion about how she was not Belle, thank him for the nice room he'd paid for, and be on her way. He was company for an hour, not for the night. She nodded her head and gave him her best sultry smile.

"I can see the allure in a spot like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I'm so nervous to hear what you'll say about this chapter. It was one of the most difficult to figure out because I had to get Lacey from "not interested" to snogging the guy in back of Granny's a few hours later. But oddly enough once I decided what I was going to do this conversation just came naturally and in the editing process I decided I was happy enough with it so I was going to keep it. What do you think? Is it okay? Is it convincing? I'm going for convincing. Oh my goodness, let me know I'm so worried!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	8. The Crazy Town

She and Keith played through two more games, only this time they clarified that they were playing eight-ball. And because it was more fun, they placed money on the table. Before she left for her date, she'd earned twenty more dollars. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough that she considered for a moment not getting the job and just taking bets on pool all day! If today was any indication, she could probably make a decent living on it. But bar bets and a "decent living", for that matter, weren't going to get her to New York City.

As she counted through her small collection, she glanced down and came to a new conclusion: this outfit just wasn't doing it for her anymore. If she was going to go on not one but two dates, and if she wasn't going to spend her money on a room at the B&B she may as well spend it on something she liked that could really call hers, bought and paid for. She thought over the places she'd been to earlier. Neither would work for this. First of all if they suspected she'd stolen something she didn't want to walk back in and offer herself up for Sheriff Graham, he'd know she was guilty in two seconds flat. Second of all she really didn't think they carried anything that she would be looking for tonight. She suspected that Gold wouldn't care what she wore and she knew that Keith would probably never notice, but she would. And besides, what was the fun of being sexy if you didn't dress the part?!

That left her with one option: the boutique she worked at before the accident. They would have what she was looking for, it was close enough to closing that her boss probably wouldn't be there, and it was right across the street from Granny's. Who would be working tonight? She couldn't think of anyone. Not that it would help, the schedule could have changed five times since she'd last gone to work. It was a risk. If her boss was still there she would waste no time telling her father she was still in town. For Gods sake the woman had been trying to get her to set the two of them up since she'd started working there. Fat chance. But would one of the workers call her father? Maybe? It depended on the worker…and what she said to them. It was still a risk, but now it was one she was willing to take.

She collected her bounty and after telling the bartender she'd see him later with a coy smile, she walked out into the dying light, heading toward her old haunt. She took a glance through the window when she arrived and sighed with relief. Misty was working tonight. That was perfect. She wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier and even though she was one of those people who was always a little too well-behaved for her taste, she wasn't completely devoted to the manager either. She'd worked with her a couple of times. She could remember…

Despite the cold she stopped dead in her tracks before going into the store. She could remember...nothing. That was strange. She knew she'd worked with Misty, how could they not, they'd been co-workers since before she could remember! But she couldn't think of one time in particular that she had. Probably she should have been worried about that...but then why did she suddenly feel more comfortable? Why did the information seem to set her mind at ease? The missing incident from the town line. That was why. Maybe it wasn't just her memories from that night that weren't there yet. Maybe it really would just take a bit of time to get back to normal. It was a relief in some strange way. The missing chunks would return one day, all of them, but in the meantime she wasn't going to go home and lay on the couch being the victim. First because she wasn't one for the all day pajamas-and-TV look and second because she didn't have a home with a couch to lie on. Not anymore. And if she wanted a place to sleep for the night and maybe a little fun to go with that, she really needed to make this purchase count.

Misty didn't even look up when she entered the store, just went on folding and hanging the dresses for tomorrow, typical "end shift but before closing" behavior. "Don't mind me I'm just going to help myself!" she called heading over to the dresses section as Misty gave an uninterested "'Kay". She sifted through the small cache of dresses available to her. This! This was what she'd been hoping to find earlier! It was a selection she could really dive into. If only she could find the right one.

Too long.

Too heavy.

Too low-cut, even for her.

Not enough color.

She found contenders and threw them over her arm, but once she was in the dressing room there was one obvious winner. The red one would have kept her warm but it was just a little too catholic school for her taste. The green one probably would have worked if she was just meeting Keith for the night, and if she knew him a little better, or if they'd been celebrating a six month anniversary or something. But it would probably give Mr. Gold a heart attack, and the last thing she wanted at the end of the day was to end up back in the hospital.

No, blue seemed to be the lucky color of the day. The blue sequins dress she'd found was perfect. Not too fancy for Granny's but not too casual for drinks at the Rabbit Hole later. Longer sleeves to keep her arms warm. Shorter skirt to show off her legs. And while it didn't exactly allow for cleavage it was backless. She'd have to go braless for the night, but that wasn't a problem for her. It was just one less thing to take care of later. She looked herself over in the mirror. The rest of this wasn't hard, a pair of pantyhose to keep her legs warm in the cold, a pair of shoes, lose the bracelet, leave the hair, add a coat, and she was good to go. It still wasn't as good as something she might have designed for herself or something that the New York starlets were wearing, but for Storybrooke, Maine it was damn near red carpet attire.

She glanced down at the price tag dangling from her sleeve, snapped it off, and checked the price. Oh. Maybe she'd have to borrow the coat. She folded the clothes she'd stolen earlier and left them on the bench. She wouldn't mourn if she lost them, but considering they were the only thing besides this dress that she owned at the moment she wasn't ready to let them go. She'd leave them here for the night. Her boss didn't come in until later in the day and she could always pick them up before then and return the coat.

Misty must have been in the back, she was nowhere in sight, so she picked up a bag from the back counter, grabbed a pair of hose and put them on before sliding her clothes into the bag and grabbing the perfect set of blue heels and a warm coat. One more glance in the mirror and she was satisfied with the final product. Now she just had to handle Misty. That shouldn't be too hard, no doubt the girl was ready to start closing up and go home anyway. She heard the door open and close and knew that she'd come back in. If she waited too long then she'd shut the computer down. And what was she so afraid of anyway? It was a small town. People were bound to figure out that she was still here. Her father was sure to learn about it one way or another. Hiding in the Rabbit Hole would only get her so far and if she ever wanted to leave this place behind she would have to take her place in this society first. It was now or never.

She took a deep breath and walked out from behind the rack and toward the register. "Hey," she said with false confidence, "don't stop what you're doing I've got it." Misty finally glanced up at her as she walked behind the counter with her haul. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the sight of her.

"You're-"

"Yeah, I know," she sighed scanning the dress and the price tag for the shoes. "I've been gone for a long time but trust me when I say it's a long story," she prattled on with a small chuckle.

"But, you're…hey you can't do that!" she squeaked as she started punching in the numbers for her employee discount. "You don't work here!"

So she'd been right then. Not that she could blame Nike, her manager. If someone didn't show up to work for weeks at a time she'd probably fire them too. "I figured as much," she muttered placing the cash in the register. "But I've worked here for five years and after everything that's happened the last few weeks the world owes me a little something in return."

"No, you really can't do this!"

"I just did," she smiled, turning her attention to the "borrowed" coat in her hands and finding its tag. She opened the drawer and…no. She was certain she had a seam ripper in here for occasions just like this, times she needed to rip the cloth tag off to keep the plastic price tag in place. She searched the cluttered drawer for it but didn't see it anywhere. What could have happened to that thing?! No one else used it!

"No, really, I don't know what you think you're doing but you're crazy if you think…"

"I am not crazy!" she shouted a little louder than she meant to, her fingers flexing over the drawer so tight it creaked. But she couldn't help it. She never wanted to hear that word used in reference to her ever again…even in jokes! Misty had become quiet after her outburst. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea where she'd been or what she'd been through, but the reprimand served her right. No one should ever be called crazy. Ever.

"Look, Misty," she picked out the small pair of scissors when she couldn't find her seam ripper and cut the cloth tag out of the jackets seam, then shoved it into the pocket of the jacket. She'd sew it back in later, before she returned it, needle and thread would be easy to find. "I've been living in hell for the last few days, but things are finally starting to look up and no one is going to stand in my way. We've all done it and I wouldn't be back here doing it if I wasn't desperate. I swear this will be the last time I will bother you or anything in the shop. After this, I'm gone. Just hold this stuff for me overnight," she instructed putting the bag under the counter and throwing the coat over her shoulders, "I'll pick it up tomorrow and return this then." She made her way out from behind the counter and made her way quickly toward the door so Misty wouldn't stop her.

"Oh!" she said turning around just before she left. Misty wasn't doing anything. She just stood there with her jaw hanging open, a look of utter disbelief on her face. "Don't tell Nike I was here and if you see my father please don't even mention you saw me! He'll figure out I'm in town eventually but you don't need to be the one to tell him so soon."

"But…I…You…" she stuttered before finally sighing and rubbing her hands over her forehead. "I don't think you understand. I've never seen you-"

"Perfect!" she yelled cutting her off. "Just keep practicing that and if anyone asks about me, repeat that line." She gave the girl a supportive smile. It wouldn't be easy but she imagined that Misty wouldn't have to lie about this visit, not unless anyone actually said "Where's Lacey been?" So she wasn't asking her to lie, just withhold the truth. Two completely different things. And really she wasn't even telling her she couldn't tell the entire world what had just happened, just her father and Nike. Not hard at all.

"Great! Thanks, I owe you one!" she yelled over her shoulder as she left, hurrying away before Misty could argue any more. The sun was down by the time she left and went straight over to Granny's casting Misty one last departing glance through the glass store front. She was still standing there at the register with her mouth open looking like she couldn't believe what had just taken place. It was the strangest look in the world. She knew that she'd worked with her, maybe not often and maybe she couldn't pinpoint the exact memory given her current injury, but she knew that they'd spent time with each other. And yet, the way she was looking at her right now...it was as if Misty had never seen her before in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. It's simple really, The last four episodes of the season span three days in Storybrooke, three days for Belle to be Lacey and go from being unsure about magic to learning about it and being accepting of it. It starts here in this chapter. Small I know, but this chapter is big if only because it is just enough to begin to putting seed in her mind that something isn't entirely right. for now she blames Misty...she won't tomorrow. Or...well...tomorrow as in the stories tomorrow...not your tomorrow I don't know how fast you read this fiction you could read those chapters in an hour or three years it's up to you.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	9. The Result of Curiosity

She put the conversation she'd had with Misty out of her mind and walked across the street to Granny's diner. She waited out on the patio area on one of the picnic tables people ate lunch at when it was warm out and watched the cars pass by as she waited for Mr. Gold to show up. As it turned out she only had a moment to waste. Gold turned up promptly at 8:00 and, with everything that she knew about the man, that really shouldn't have surprised her. She was sure that promptness was one of those things that men like Mr. Gold prided themselves on.

"Lacey," he practically sighed reminding her of a teenage boy that had just met his prom date. "I'm really glad you came." And she honestly didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't think she would have showed up, she wasn't really sure why she had showed up-why were they doing this to themselves, again? Oh, yes, curiosity. And that feeling she had right now that made her feel like she'd regret it if she stood him up. She'd never felt it about anything before the accident. Maybe it was just because of how nice he'd been to her when she'd been without her life. Maybe if she had dinner then she would feel like she'd paid him a debt and then she could find the courage to kindly end their…well she wouldn't exactly call it a relationship, but what was another word for whatever the hell they were doing together?

They were seated toward the back of the diner, which had its lighting dimmed slightly to make the people of this small town think they were about to get a five star romantic experience. As if. But it was the most popular option in town. And she wouldn't have requested any of the nicer places, she didn't want to get the guys hopes up after all. Just grab a free dinner, thank him for the room, and move on. It was a simple plan. A good plan. Now if only she could just remember that and actually do it!

She glanced up as he suddenly fumbled with the scarce menu the old woman had given him. She laughed, it was cute in an adorable "aw look how nervous he is" kind of way. It was amusing really! She was a no one, how and why could the most powerful man in town be brought down to "adorable" around little-ole-her! One more curiosity to add to the collection she was beginning to form in her mind. "You, um...are you nervous Mr. Gold?" she asked.

"No! No, of course not. I'm just, uh...deciding what to have," he explained glancing back at the limited menu. Her instinct told her he'd lied, but she couldn't bring herself to call him out on it. There were worse things to lie about than some emotion that would probably only make him blush and ruin the image he must have delicately worked to construct…or so she assumed. So she followed his lead and glanced back down at her own menu, reminding herself once more that beggars couldn't be choosy and it was real food, at the very least. When she got to New York City, then she'd really be dining in style, preferably with five or six paparazzi trying to take a picture of her and a model that served as her boyfriend of the week for the tabloids. That would really make her father stew.

"What the hell happened to you!" someone called breaking the delicate silence in the quiet diner. It was the woman everyone called "Granny" coming over to their table...and talking to her?! "You raid the back of Ruby's closets?"

She raised her eyebrows completely shocked at how the woman was addressing her. She was so surprised by it she really didn't know what to say or even think about the comment. At first she thought it was another dig about how she dressed, she got that all the time, but then she ran over the statement one more time in her head and picked out the name Ruby. Suddenly it all clicked, but she wasn't happy about it. Granny also thought she was Belle. What was wrong with this town?! She'd lived here for a while now and not once had she ever heard of or met a woman named Belle?! Why did they all think that she was her all of a sudden? And why couldn't they all see the obvious differences between them? Damn, she really should have asked her father if she had some twin out there before she'd left!

"Perhaps,  _Lacey,_ and I could order?" Gold insisted, stating her name very clearly. Thank God at least one person seemed to finally be getting it! Maybe she didn't need to explain she wasn't Belle to him after all. Maybe there was some other reason he'd wanted to take her out. "Um, two burgers, two iced teas, please."

Well...he almost got it. "Actually!" she explained irritated by the fact someone had gone so far as to try and decide her future again, even if it was only what she was going to eat and drink. But she was done living that way. That accident, that fight with her father, was the start of something new, and she wouldn't stand for it any more. "I'm gonna go chicken parm and white wine," she corrected. "And make it the bottle!" she added before the old woman could saunter away.

"Alrighty," she heard Granny mutter, before taking the menus and leaving with a "yep" after Gold had thanked her.

The look on his face told her he was shocked by her outburst and she took a sense of pride in that. If he was going to admit that she wasn't Belle then he'd have to see that there were more differences than just their names. "I've never really been much of a burger girl," she explained easily laughing it off like it was something wrong with her. Her almost polite manner nearly shocked her this time. She should tell him off for ordering for her like that. What was she five?! But that same feeling she'd had before stopped her, why was it that the thought of being mean to him made her like feel like such a terrible human being and turned her into a coward. It was like a terrible puzzle she'd been told to construct but was only given one piece at a time. And whether it was her or Gold it only made her all the more curious about him.

He shrugged at her explanation and his eyes roamed over the table searching for something to talk about. This could be a really long date. "Whatever you want, you should have," he finally settled on.

Right words. He hadn't done so bad on that count. But still, it perplexed her. The more she sat with him, the more she talked to him the more she believed less and less that he was the person the town talked about, the one Keith warned her about. But how many "Mr. Gold's" could there be in this place? Did he know what the people in town thought of him? Of course he did. How could he not?! But she was curious as to what he would he think about those accusations?

"You know, you're-you're a classy guy Mr. Gold." She said trying to ease into her suspicions. "This is not what I was expecting from you!" she prodded, hoping to get a raise out of him, wondering if she could find the beast that the town feared behind his gaze. Just the smallest glimpse of confirmation that she wasn't wrong would do.

She didn't know why it was important, her father wouldn't catch her with him, but if he was going to find out she was in town, how sweet would it be if he learned she'd been on a date with the man that collected their- _his_  rent. And then there was that small fact. She'd never liked school but she'd always been praised for her ingenuity and intelligence. Reputation aside, he was rich too, and she'd spent a fair amount of money on her outfit. Going home with Keith tonight would only satisfy until the sun rose and then she'd be right back in the same boat tomorrow morning. Making friends with the rich town monster wouldn't be the worst idea she'd ever had. If only she could get him to admit it, or act like it for once! But instead, he only stared at her awkwardly, like he couldn't figure out how to respond to her hidden accusation. And yet his guilty face did tell her one thing: he knew exactly what she was talking about. But what did she have to do to get him to talk about it, or show it! What was the magic word, here?

"Given all the 'stuff' people say about you..." she prompted again.

"Oh that," he said, finally finding his words and laughing it off, "yeah, my reputation. "What is it you hear?" As if he didn't know what "stuff" she was talking about it. Everyone said the same things about him. He was smart, he might have been a little socially awkward around her, but she could tell from the looks that he gave her that he was intelligent. More even. He was cunning, like he thought of everything that went on around him fifty times before doing something about it…or not doing something about it. The looks he gave were of someone plotting, planning. But for what?

"Oh, just that you-you're the most powerful man in town, and you got that power from being ruthless, and that when people cross you they…get hurt," she finished with anticipation, recalling Keith's words that he only got violent if you were unlucky enough to cross him.

He opened his mouth to respond but unfortunately Granny chose that moment to deliver the drinks. Or maybe fortunately, she needed something to get through this evening. "Thank you," she said as the bottle was placed before her. Yes, exactly what she needed. It was the only thing missing from…well…whatever the hell  _this_ was. She still hadn't decided.

She watched him as he swallowed nervously and reached across for the bottled Granny had set before her. "I am simply," he said as he began pouring the blessed liquid into the cheap glass she'd brought, "a shop owner and procurer of difficult to find objects," he corrected before setting the bottle down. She wasn't an idiot. There was truth to what he'd said, but the words were said with an air of secrecy. They were carefully chosen, and she could hear a dark mysterious tone behind them. He'd meant to shut the conversation down, but she was still waiting for it to begin. Who the hell was Gold really?

Well, to begin with he was a control freak. The bottle hadn't even left his hand before she retrieved it and began to fill her glass to the brim, which he'd neglected to do. She didn't need to be served like a twenty-one year old birthday girl who didn't know how to hold her liquor. And, frankly, though she felt they were getting somewhere, he was moving too slow for her. She didn't want to spend hours finding the real him hiding behind control, she wanted to know who she was really with now, and if there was any chance of this going farther. If not, she may as well follow through with her plan, thank him, and leave. She had a good time waiting for her, just as soon as she left this G-rated date behind her.

"People like to believe, the worst in me, but Lacey, I...I would rather you believe the best."

And there was the nail in the coffin. Clearly everyone in the town was crazy. They'd been wrong about her, and Belle, for that matter. And they'd been wrong about him. In order to be powerful and ruthless you had to have confidence and believe, even falsely sometimes, that you were powerful and ruthless. He didn't have any of that. Her instinct had never failed her before, but there was a first for everything she supposed.

"Well I-I just-I-I just don't get why people are scared of you. I see a man who wouldn't hurt anyone," she explained with mild irritation.

That irritation only grew as he beamed at her comment like a catholic choir boy who'd just won the solo. "Thank you Lacey, I really needed to hear that." She took a drink and began to pray the rest of this endeavor would be over soon. "Especially now."

She didn't know what the hell that was supposed to mean, but frankly, she didn't care. She was losing interest by the second. He wasn't her type and that much was beyond obvious now. But she wasn't his type either. If he wanted the good girl that would listen to his problems and let him order for her and to see him as a brilliant sun against a cloudy sky, he was looking in the wrong place. She had problems too, immediate ones, like where she was going to live and work, and what was going to become of her life. Listening to a sob story wasn't going to accomplish any of that. So much for curiosity...and guilt!

"Well, you know what they say...you can't tell what's in a person's heart until you truly know them." She knew there was something more to him, something darker, but his instinct was to suppress whatever that might have been around her. She didn't want people to hide behind what they should be, she wanted only for them to embrace their true selves. She should know, her father had been doing it to her ever since her mother died. He was no different.

She saw his hand reach out for her and wondered what to do if he wanted to do something like hold her hand. Goodness, get the MPAA out here this was about to go PG! But she didn't want it to go that far though. It would be cruel to lead him on and she still had that instinct to be nice to him for some reason or another. No, she couldn't let this go any further, so she opened her mouth to put a stop to it.

"But-"

She never got to finish her objections and he never got the opportunity to hold her hand because he tipped over his iced tea right into her lap. Clumsy. Yet another thing she was certain no one would ever have described him as.

"Whoa!" she said through a laugh as the cold liquid chilled her leg, "did I say something wrong?" She tried to hide her irritation, but this was the only dress that she owned at the moment, well the only thing she hadn't stolen, at least. This night was getting worse moment by moment.

"No! No, it's just that...I knew someone once who said that exact same thing to me. Gosh, I'm so sorry about your dress," he hurried on.

Gosh? He couldn't even swear right. It was wrong. All of it was wrong. And she needed a break. More than that. "A bit of water will take it right out," she said excusing herself for a blessed minute of peace from this bad decision.

"Okay."

"Okay," she confirmed patting him on the back as she left for the bathroom. So much for learning something new or exciting about him or finding out about Belle. All she'd done was confirm her original suspicion. He was sweet, and it didn't get much worse than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that date went well. Maybe by Belle's standards it went well. By Lacey's standards not so much. It was painful to watch and painful to write ya'll, but we'll get through it together! Promise!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	10. The Meaning of Fine

Thank God for iced tea made more of water than tea! The more she examined the dress the more she realized that his clumsy spill wasn't going to be a problem. She'd gotten the brownish stain out to the point that it wasn't visible unless she looked really closely at it and the blue sequins made it difficult to find even then. The fabric was sturdy, a run through the washing machine and it would come out completely without a problem. Thank God it hadn't gotten on the coat she'd taken though. She had no choice but to return it tomorrow morning, and bringing it back with a giant stain wouldn't have been ideal for no one ever knowing she'd taken it. She would have had to keep it, but Misty had seen her take it and while she thought she'd keep her visit to herself, if something went missing on her watch then she'd flip. The sheriff had caught her too many times to let her off this time if Misty reported her. That was a problem she didn't need. She'd merely trade one cage for another. Not that being stuck in Granny's with Mr. Gold was much different.

She sighed as she leaned against the wall of the quiet space. Today had been…disappointing. True she'd gotten her memories back, but that was about the only good thing that had happened so far. She'd started the day wanting to get away from Mr. Gold so...how exactly did she end up having dinner with him tonight? And why did he treat her so differently from anyone else? He wasn't interesting with her. He wasn't powerful or ruthless. He was just a man, an ordinary man…and she was bored.

But what could she do about it? She'd tried, repeatedly tried, to make him understand, to explain to him, that she wasn't Belle and she wasn't interested in him, but it didn't seem to work. It was a two-way problem. He wasn't really listening and she just wasn't being clear enough. To hell with guilt. What kind of an emotion was it really? What good was it? Every time she was around him she felt it and she didn't understand why, but she knew that it was keeping her from being as frank and blunt with him as she should have been. Oh sure, she could make plans to go out there and thank him for being kind but she knew in her heart of hearts that at the end of the day she wouldn't be able to, just like every other past attempt, she'd fail. She'd tolerate him for the evening, until the end, all the while feeling more and more guilty about leading him on and when they parted she'd simply hope that he wouldn't want another date and tell herself that she'd be more clear next time. It would be an endless never ending cycle.

He'd never make her happy. But she doubted anyone in this town ever would. Not even Keith could-

Keith!

She'd nearly forgotten. Oh, she wasn't stupid, she knew she wasn't going to find any kind of happily ever after with Keith either, but what he promised for the night was a hell of a lot more fun than what was going on here!

She opened the door and eyed the nearest clock. Would it be too early? Why bother wondering? If he wasn't around she'd just go back to the bar and find someone else-his loss. Gold's back was to her and there was a door down the hall. She could get out easily enough. She'd have to leave behind her coat...but she could always collect it from the lost and found tomorrow. And frankly she wasn't planning on being cold for very long…

And so she crept out the back, feeling suddenly like she was in High school again and she was sneaking out of her father's house. The guilty feeling grew as she watched him sitting there alone, but she turned her face away and hoped that maybe when he realized she'd left, again, he would finally get the idea and stop looking for her; put them both out of their misery. The back door opened to a questionable looking wooden porch with stairs. It wasn't the back door, merely the side door. And when she rounded the corner she smiled as luck appeared to be back on her side again. Keith stood there, his back to her, but she could smell the smoke coming from his breath.

"Did you save one for me?" she asked, making him turn quickly around. No, definitely a wannabe. He jumped not with surprise, but fear. Had he been worried that Gold had found him? It might not make sense to her but it might to the rest of the town.

He smiled and pulled a cardboard box of the sticks out of his pocket before pulling one out and wiggling it between his fingers in taunting temptation. "What happened to your date?" he asked as she took a couple of steps forward. She didn't answer. He didn't need to know, if she was here then he should already have figured out what was going on by now. She made a motion to pull the cigarette out of his hand and he jerked it away. "It'll cost you," he smiled menacingly. He was teasing her. But two could play at that game and lucky for her pool was only her second best talent.

"I seem to be low on cash at the moment," she replied, "spent it all on this dress."

His smile grew as he looked her up and down his eyes widening at the sight. At least someone had appreciated the work it took to look presentable. "It's nearly as beautiful as you are-that being the case I'm sure we could work something out."

"Really? And what might that be?"

Keith took a step closer and put his hand on her waist, "I'm sure I can think of something." She didn't have time to say anything, she barely had time to smile before she found his mouth pressed against her. She wouldn't have called it a spectacular, head over heels, girl meets boy and finds true love kiss…if it weren't for her parents she'd have said that love like that didn't really exist, but it was definitely something she could get lost in. Lacking as it was, it was something that would get her by for the night and let her put all her troubles and worries aside if only she surrendered.

The cigarettes were tossed aside, her arms automatically wound around him and she found them falling against the back wall…which hurt. The damn siding was too pointy to actually get comfortable, which he clearly wanted to do as she felt his hand groping along her thigh and back and his mouth worked at her neck. She pushed a little hoping he would stop and take them back to his place for comforts sake, but her stupid body was already responding to the motions she knew well and she wasn't managing the "stop" part well enough. The only thing she could really hear clearly was the sound of blood rushing through her ears as her heart pounded faster and faster and their breathing came out in short gasps and moans. Comfortable or not, she was ready to give in. It wasn't the best place she'd ever had sex in but it wasn't the worst-

But suddenly she felt cold air as Keith moved away from her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" yelled the angry voice of Mr. Gold. Her jaw dropped as she took in what had just happened. Keith hadn't moved, he'd been yanked away violently by Mr. Gold. And she could feel her temper begin to snap. Why was he here?! Why was he ruining this for her?! Could he really not take hint after hint after hint! What the hell was wrong with him that he thought he had the right to interrupt her?!

She looked at Keith, waiting for him to tell the man off and send him away so they could go back to his place. But his eyes only moved between her and Gold looking shaken and nervous. "Wait, you two are here together?"

"Yes!" Gold shouted with a crazed look in his eyes, "we are!"

She could have screamed. No! She'd walked out! They certainly were not together! Not anymore! Not here! Not at the hospital! Not now! Not ever! And what the hell was Keith talking about? He knew exactly why she was here! He knew she'd been meeting with Gold and frankly this was why he had been out here! What had he said? He could protect her? Yet there he stood cowering like a frightened kitten. Coward!

"I...I..." he stuttered for a moment, before backing away from the non-threatening man, who still, despite being clearly angry, couldn't seem to bring himself to do anything but raise his voice. Fine! Just...fine! Disappointment all around! "I didn't know!" Keith finally managed to choke out.

"Go!" Gold shouted at him. "Now!"

Keith turned and ran like he was being chased by a hungry lion instead of a very loud mouse, fabulous, there went her place to stay for the night! She felt her hands curl into fists and had the urge to hit something. Gold might well have been the worst thing to have happened to her since her mother died and she and her father moved to this Godforsaken shithole! Ever since he'd turned up in her life it was one thing after another! Hurt after hurt. Missed opportunity after missed opportunity! This was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever experienced!

"You, you alright?" Gold questioned turning back to her and placing a protective hand on her shoulder. No, she was not already...she was fuming! But physically...

"Yeah," she admitted as he gave her an intense look of worry "I-I-I'm-I'm fine," she pointed out, anger seething through her so badly she could barely find the words she needed to form a sentence. She had a memory she couldn't seem to locate somewhere of some friend telling her once what "fine" really meant in "girl-language". "Fine-Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional..." as much as she hated to admit it, that about summed it up right now just…well, just damn fine!

Gold placed the hand at her back and gave a gentle but still forceful push. It would have been welcomed, if she wasn't so furious at the moment! She didn't want him nearby and she didn't need him to protect her. If it wasn't for him the only protection she would have needed that night came in the form of a small wrapper she could get in the bathroom of the Rabbit Hole. So much for that idea. So much for celebrating being out of the hospital!

"Let's get you inside-"

Her anger broke and she pushed him away. "No, look I said 'I'm fine!' okay? I'm fine!" She tried to move around him, but he cut her off again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he was unbelievable! Was he really "whoaing" her? Like a horse? She was not a trained pet! She was not a girl who could be ordered for, or needed protecting, or wanted to be treated like a delicate flower! She was young, she wanted to have a good time, to have wild crazy sex whenever the hell she felt like it, drink until dawn, and make a name for herself in this world. He was looking for woman he could settle down with, have two point five children, a dog and cat, and still have dinner on the table every night at 8:00 precisely. That wasn't her. It might have been Belle, but no, definitely not her! And she was done with him!

She was just figuring out how to say all of this when she saw his face fall, matching her own realization as if he had read her mind. "You came out here because you wanted to be with him."

She knew he was smart, he'd simply guessed, but the realization made him look like he was completely broken and her gut gave an involuntary twist again. She didn't know she had it in her to feel this guilty over a face like that. But no! She wasn't going to baby him anymore! It wasn't helping him and it most certainly wasn't helping her. She was pissed, she couldn't help it, and she didn't care this time if she hurt his delicate feelings or felt guilty about it. She'd sacrificed too much for him tonight!

"Yeah," she admitted, trying to find her voice and ignore her conscious.

"But, I don't understand...our date, I thought it was going well!"

"No," she corrected, "no, it-it wasn't."

"What?" His forehead crinkled. He seemed on the brink of tears and she couldn't look at his eyes anymore, otherwise she risked loosing her nerve again. So she picked a spot on his forehead and stared at it, instead. Much safer. And less of a guilt trip.

"I mean it never was," she explained, "the only reason I agreed to go out with you was because I was trying to be nice, but that's not me that's you!" Well, she was being blunt at least. Maybe not a hundred percent truthful, she had been curious about him, but now that she saw he wasn't the kind of man she'd expected, there was no need to tell him that she might have been attracted to him if only he acted a certain way, or said certain words, or did certain things. It simply wouldn't be fair to him. And at least this way there would be no doubt that she'd given him a clear message.

"But that's what you liked about me," he said, desperately, "the nice part of me, the good part!" Now he was trying to tell her what he liked?! She felt her controlled rage suddenly snap back into place. This man couldn't be farther from what she was searching for if they were on opposite ends of the world. And to make it worse, she might not have been a genius but she was smart enough to know what was really happening, what tonight had really been for him.

"This is still about Belle, isn't it?" she accused. His face softened at the name once more. She'd gotten it right. It was the only explanation for why he kept coming back to her over and over again when she clearly had no interest. He hadn't been having dinner with her tonight, he'd been planning on dining with his beloved Belle. She didn't know what happened to her or their relationship, but she was tired of being confused for the woman, and the fact that he'd used her like this, as an imitation to scratch some itch he had, just made her feel cheap and she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cry. It was insulting. And she didn't know how much more clear she could be with him!

"Look, Mr. Gold, I'm sorry, she may have loved you...but I am not her!" she stated clearly. She watched him for a moment as the words finally managed to sink in and she knew he was finally getting the message. But the look on his face was once more too much for her to take. So, without another word, having finally said what she should have all along, she walked off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene breaks my heart every single time! The look on his face is just so...so...gah! Take a knife to my heart and twist it, it would be less painful than watching him lose hope of ever getting his beloved Belle back. Am I right? Still, it had to be done. And while things look bad for our beloved Belle and Rumple right now things are about to get better for Lacey and Gold. All you Lacey fans, sit back relax, enjoy the show...Rumbellers, tuck in, we've got a ways to go!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	11. A Surprising Turn of Events

She found her way back inside of Granny's and grabbed her coat, then downed the glass of wine she'd left behind before practically running out of the diner, into the cool air. Once outside again, she took a deep breath and starting off down the street. Honestly, she just couldn't bear to be anywhere near the scene of the incident or Mr. Gold. But she didn't make it very far, just ended up leaning against the wall of the pet shelter and staring up at the sky.

Guilt was a bitch. And the only thing making it worse was that she was reminding herself, for what seemed like the millionth time today, that she had no bloody idea why she had the damn emotion over someone like him! She didn't know why she should be feeling it now anyway. He'd clearly over stepped and she'd dealt with it honestly. Hell, for as angry as she was she'd been, she'd been pretty damn calm by comparison! There was nothing to feel bad about. She didn't have to stay there and watch the aftermath of her words take the lighthearted man down piece by piece. She wasn't there to pick up the pieces, she was the wrecking ball, and maybe now he could move on and start to rebuild and she could get some peace.

And a life.

But as much as she wanted to move on, she still had a problem. A big one. Now she had no where to stay for the night. Keith had been a disappointment, even if she did run into him there was no way she was going home with that cowardly imbecile. And it was her own damn fault that she'd put too much of her faith in him in the first place! After what she'd spent on the dress, thinking Keith was a safe bet, she no longer had the funds to rent a room from Granny. Damn! She should have listened to her instincts.

Options. She needed options. She'd go back to Gold and ask for help over her dead body, but there had to be someone else...

Clark! She had his number, he'd told her that she should call if she ever needed anything! She didn't have a phone but she could always find a payphone!

She patted herself down, remembering that she'd put the number in the pocket of her pants…

Which were now locked behind the counter at Modern Fashions until morning. And he'd been off for the day so it wasn't as if she could go to find him at the pharmacy...

That left her only with her father. Her stomach sank at the less than appealing thought.

She could go home. She could apologize for the millionth time knowing she didn't mean the words. Her father would forgive her, knowing he really didn't either. She could find a new job and go back to her old miserable life as if that fight had never happened…

NO! No one decided her fate but her. Not anymore! And if she went home there was no reason to believe that what happened before wouldn't happen all over again. She had to stop thinking this way. She'd had a bad day, a bad date-dates really, that was no reason to assume that she was completely out of options!

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall letting the cool air cleanse her mind and chill her skin and sober her mind. There were other options. Not many, but they existed. At the moment there were two she could think of. She could go back to the Rabbit Hole and try again. Maybe find another guy, find someone from her crowd, and get a couch somewhere. Or she could go back to the Hole, get drunk and collapse on the cot they kept in the back room. Embarrassing as it was, it wouldn't be the first time she'd spent the night there. Either way, it looked like she was heading back to the bar.

She stood up, fixed her dress, squared her shoulders, and started walking down to the bar. She rounded the corner of the shoe store and nearly heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the sign for the one friendly place she still had left in town. First thing she was going to do was get a shot and try to make the best of this terrible night. Hell, she already had the dress, she may as well-

She stopped in her tracks. There was a strange sound coming from the parking lot. Muffled cries? She smiled with amusement. Yes, that was exactly what she was hearing, and she knew those kind of cries all too well. Someone was getting a beat down. It wasn't completely out of the ordinary for a place like The Rabbit Hole, usually large crowds piled around the two who had the disagreement after the owner insisted they "take it outside". She liked to watch, something about two idiots beating the shit out of each other was entertaining as hell. And the party that followed in the bar afterwards for the victor was always triumphant as the winner took pride in flaunting his power over the rest of them, if only for the night. It was even better when she was the girl on the winners arm.

But things had been fine when she'd left the Rabbit Hole. There had been no brawls brewing, and it was the wrong day of the week for that sort of thing anyway. What had she missed since she'd been gone?

Eagerly she followed the noises, hoping that maybe someone in the watching crowd would be there to explain what had happened. Maybe one of them would need someone to have a drink with tonight if the victor didn't-

But as she rounded the corner her eyes met with a shocking sight. There was no crowd. Just two people. There was someone cowering against a car as a man struck repeatedly with a long, thin object. A cane. Mr. Gold! She did a double take and had to make sure she was seeing what she thought. Yes, she was seeing this correctly. Mr. Gold was delivering frenzied blow after blow to the man before him with supernatural strength. She leaned against the wall, overwhelmed with satisfaction as she watched the scene before her unfold. It was exciting. It was triumphant. It was entertaining. It was…perfect! She knew it! She knew he'd been holding out on her! She knew that the entire town couldn't be wrong! Where had this man been tonight only a few minutes ago?!

The scene didn't last long. As if he was able to sense her presence there behind him, he turned and found her standing there. He looked like he'd been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar as he set his cane back in place and once again gained all the composure one would expect of a man who "procured hard to find objects. "Lacey," he muttered, acknowledging her.

She couldn't help but risk a glance behind him and realized the man cowering was none other than Keith. Was this because of what he'd done to her? Had tall, dark, and handsome really fallen prey to the town pawnbroker?! He'd said he was only violent when people were stupid enough to cross him…it looked like he'd been telling the truth. Now that was her idea of a man. He knew what he wanted and he wasn't afraid to take it! Or so it appeared. Looks could be deceiving.

"So it is true then," she stated, suddenly impressed, "what they say about you."

He wavered for a moment, debating something in his head before he finally hissed out "Yes" even the voice was different. "It's all true," he admitted darkly, as if he simply couldn't hold the secret truth in anymore.

Why was it that he was this way with the rest of town, but was so afraid to show her his true nature? Was that what Belle had wanted? Had she wanted him to behave and it was just instinct? This was the person she wanted to see more of! Not the frail old man dying for the smallest compliment like his saintly Belle would have wanted, but the unchained powerful man before her?!

"You, uh..." she shook her head and took a step toward him trying to wrap her head around everything she'd seen and heard today. "You are not who I thought you were," she admitted. Well, to be fair, she did suspect he was this way, she just thought that she'd been wrong. And she was happy to admit that she had been. "And I'm glad," she laughed as she thought back to the howls Keith had given as the cane came down each time. "You really are as dark as people say," she observed, more to herself than to him. She liked that, his darkness, the mystery within him. She didn't want to be Mr. Gold's Belle. But Gold's Lacey, the girl on the arm of the most powerful, the richest, man in town…now that had a ring to it. And maybe even a place to stay for the night.

He turned to look at Keith laying there before him and turned back to her, his gentle face disappearing to one of ruthlessness, the face she'd hoped she would see all along, and feared she might not ever have gotten. Perfect. "Darker, dearie," he explained, suddenly confident, he picked up his cane and glanced at the handle. She wouldn't be surprised if it was made of real gold...or lead judging by the way Keith had fallen prey to it. A menacing look passed over his face suddenly as he looked at her. "Much, darker," he concluded.

She gave a small giggle as she stood out of his way, somehow, she knew exactly what he wanted to do, and far be it for her to stop him. She watched as he wound up and then struck again, continuing to strike on Keith again and again as if she hadn't interrupted him. She would never have guessed how strong he was, or that he had it in him to do this. But he didn't stop, not when Keith begged, not when he bled, and not when his head smacked dangerously against the pavement. She couldn't help but feel impressed by the show of power he was displaying. And sure, maybe it had something to do with the alcohol running through her system, but watching the small man take down an idiot like Keith was a major turn on. Maybe not for his wholesome Belle, but for her it was gloriously attractive. Then again, maybe the fact that she'd been right all along was just as much to blame in this equation. Behind the weak nervous man, there was a beast waiting to escape, she'd only uncovered a small part of it. With any luck, she'd free it completely...and she couldn't wait to see what they could do together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there is your turning point. Don't worry, we're not done with this day yet, we've got two more chapters that I've added to it before we get started on the mysterious day 2. There are just a few more things that need covered before we get there and I hope that you like what I've done with the rest of this day. Rumbellers, just remember the last 4 episodes cover 3 days, so you are almost through the first one, just stick with me and I'll do my best to get us to a good place with this crazy lady! Oh, and while we're on the subject of days, for those of you reading all of Moments, timeline update, according to my calendar it is Thursday, April 5. My reasoning for this being on track is that a couple of days ago (moments time now RL time) Snow celebrated her birthday. She admitted she was born toward the end of the harshest Winter and I don't know about you, but where I'm from, harsh Winters end in April, so I didn't want to make it February or March or anything like that. And it Maine at this time, it's still cold enough for them to be wearing those kind of jackets so...there you go, just an update!
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you to the wonderful kind Oncer4Life69Dearie for your comments on the last chapter. Painful as it is for us Rumbellers I'm glad you are sticking with me through all this! It means a lot! Peace and Happy Reading!


	12. Something to Work With

She was certain that Keith was unconscious. He'd given up screaming after she'd seen him hit his head on the pavement and instead of holding his arms up in self defense his body seemed to have gone limp. Then again for as cowardly as the bastard turned out to be it wouldn't surprise her in the least if he was purposefully "playing dead" in an effort to make it all stop. If that was the case it seemed to work. After a few more swings Gold paused and stared down at the form of the man. She watched him for a moment, wondering what was happening before she realized that Keith really wasn't faking it. He was out cold. And any beating he might offer now wouldn't quite sink in the way that it would if he was awake for it. God, what was that cane made out of? Lead?!

Gold heaved a sigh as he placed the cane back on the ground and shivered. It was an interesting change. She could practically see the beast receding back into the skin of the frail man she'd had dinner with. It was an intriguing sight, but not a welcome one! She couldn't allow that transformation to complete itself! What good would it do for either of them?

"You, uh...you feel better?" she gave chuckle that seemed a little evil even to her, but she couldn't help it. Everything she'd just witnessed, everything she'd suspected, it all seemed true, and suddenly she felt…indescribable. She felt a wave of something wash over her that was more powerful than anything she'd felt since she ended up in this town, certainly since she'd ended up in that hospital. She couldn't identify it precisely, but it was certainly far more interesting than the guilt thing was, which seemed to have dissipated in the aftermath of this scene, thank God!

Gold glanced behind him, then back to the crumpled form of Keith laying there on the ground, unmoving. "Yes, actually," he almost sounded genuinely surprised at the fact. "Much better."

"I imagine it feels good," she leaned against the brick wall and played with the fabric of her coat wall the while assessing him, "finally getting all your rage out."

"Well, now who said that was all of it," he smirked mysteriously as he finally turned to meet her eyes. He was wavering. Part beast, part man; which would win out?

"How much rage could one man possibly have?" she muttered more to herself than to him.

"Hundreds of years worth," he commented in an offhand manner. The curiosity that she thought had died at the diner suddenly sparked again somewhere in her chest. She looked him up and down and took in the posture which hadn't quite settled from the violence it emit and suddenly had the feeling that she wasn't the only one doing the assessing. He seemed to be looking her over curiously too. Did that mean that he was finally interested in her? Did he finally see her and not his beloved Belle? About damn time! Senseless devotion was humorous to her. But attraction...! Now that was something she could deal with. Especially when the attraction was coming from the most powerful man in town, who she'd just witnessed to be far more enticing than any rumor she'd heard since she had moved here.

"You know they say it's not healthy to hold that much emotion inside. Sooner or later it's bound to escape."

"A lesson I won't soon forget," he practically spat back at her in an irritated voice. This Gold she liked. This Gold had a spine and bite. This was the Gold that the town feared and talked about behind his back and this was the Gold that didn't seem to care about what they said. She didn't know why he'd been trying so hard to hide it from her, but now that she'd seen it she wanted to see more of it.

But that wouldn't happen like this, with the pair of them standing yards apart and dancing around each other and this awkward moment where neither seemed to know what to do next. In her experience the best way to handle awkward moments was to ignore them, crash through their walls, pretend like they didn't exist, and with any luck they might actually disappear altogether when no one was looking. Fortunately for them, bold was something she did quite well.

She pushed herself away from the wall and moved closer to the man before her. His chest was still heaving but she couldn't tell if it was a side effect of the adrenaline he surely still had coursing through his body or the waves of emotion that something like anger could make physical. Either way she knew just the cure for it. "You look like you need a drink," she said looping her arm through his and leading him the short distance into the Rabbit Hole. Thank God it was so close.

He didn't say a word, merely obeyed her touch and walked with her into the bar. While she'd been out, it had filled up with exactly the crowd she'd been waiting to get there all day. The skirts were shorter, the necklines plunging, and leather was the fabric of choice. The atmosphere had changed as well. It had been quiet when she'd been in this morning. The only sound had been that of the jukebox. Now she could hear the crack of the ball's on the pool table, the clank of glasses as they rang together in cheers and were filled and refilled, and the laughter and coughing from the crowd as they joked and choked on the smoke from their cigars and cigarettes. At least those were the sounds she could hear at first. It didn't take more than a few moments after they'd stepped into the room that a wave of silence began to wash over the busyness.

It was the most astounding, remarkable, thing that she'd ever seen, or heard for that matter. Every head, every eye, looked up to stare at them. No. Not them.

Him.

Some looked at him with fear, a couple with reverence, but most of them just gazed at him curiously wondering what he was doing here. He was aware of it. His back straightened, and his eyes went almost instantly from confused to menacing, like he was trying to protect himself behind an impression of some kind. He didn't need to display his power, everyone, including her, could feel it. As wonderful and exciting as it was, it wasn't the reason that they were here, and she knew from experience that the only thing that could make everything that had just happened better than it already was, was if she had a drink in her hand-if they both did.

It didn't take much prodding to get him to move over to the bar. He seemed to let her lead, but once he knew where she wanted to go he took long confident strides, strutting almost like a peacock for those around him. But even this version of Gold, the powerful stronger version, hadn't lost his sense of kindness for her. He offered a hand to help her up into the seat she'd been in earlier and made sure she was comfortable before turning to the man sitting in the placed he had occupied before he'd asked her out. He hit his cane against the legs of the chair and the stranger flinched, looking at him with wide scared eyes, suddenly regreting his choice of seating.

"I don't ask for anything," he told the man "I simply inform people of certain facts," he said with a false smile and flourish of his hand, as if he was putting on a performance. "Here's one you might find interesting: that's my seat," he said through gritted teeth as his demeanor went from entertaining to menacing.

It took the stranger all of one second to nod and hobble away so quickly he sloshed his drink down the front of his shirt, fumbling through a terrible apology as he went. "What, uh...what can I get you?" the bartender managed to ask her without ever taking his suspicious eyes off of the man beside her.

She ordered two whiskeys when Gold didn't say anything. The bartender was the only one that seemed to move in the small bar and it was terribly annoying. She usually didn't let gawking eyes bother her, but even she had to admit that the attention on the two of them was mind blowing. She came here because she wanted to escape the obsessive interest of the world, to be away from people's judgment. She didn't get the sense that they were judging her but it certainly wasn't creating the friendly feeling of anonymity that she preferred.

"It's a bar not a bloody zoo!" she called out over the hushed crowd. Nearly every eye turned toward her like they were only just now noticing that she was there too. She'd rather have the attention of the jealous gawkers than people looking right passed her. "Back to your stupor, people," she ordered rolling her eyes. She didn't know what was worse, being hit on or ignored? That was up for debate.

But slowly, at her request, the quiet bar began to come back to life. It still wasn't as loud as it normally was and she knew that everyone was only listening to what she'd said because they were afraid that if she got angry the he would too...but she was okay with that. It was power she'd never had before, power that she was happy to get a taste of now. Maybe this was a lucky day.

The bartender delivered their drinks and she picked the glass up and in one flick of the wrist downed the entire thing. Better. Exactly what she needed to take the stress of the last few hours off her shoulder. She tapped the edge of her glass before the server could leave. "Another. Oh! And give me a shot too!" The bartender swallowed nervously, but nodded at her and went to work.

She glanced over at Gold, who was staring at her, mesmerized, again. It was almost like when he'd come in earlier, like he was shocked that she could stand up for herself. He wanted to be prim and proper around her, he wanted to pull out her chairs, order for her, he was shocked when she could raise her voice as effectively as he could exude power...and yet he could beat a man without a second glance. She had no idea what kind of women he'd dated before, what kind of woman this Belle had been, but he was going to have to get used to something completely different if he was going to be spending more time with her. She just wasn't that type of girl.

She smiled at him as her order was set down in front of her again. "Don't you just hate the feeling of being a caged animal," she questioned, looking for any kind of conversation.

He picked up his glass at the comment, looked around the room, and sighed. "You have no idea," he whispered so softly she didn't think that he'd meant for her to hear it. But she wasn't about to let a comment like that go to waste.

"So tell me..." she insisted, swallowing another mouthful in preparation and leaning forward to hear the tale.

He only shook his head and took a swallow of the amber liquid. Damn! It was happening again. He was retreating. She could see it clearly, just as she had outside. She thought that it would do him good to be around people, that he might relax a bit with the help of the alcohol, and she might be able to really question him about his actions and who he really was. But as the bar went back to normal, only casting them sideways glances, and speaking about them in hushed whispers, the beast was receding again. Back into the fabric of his aged, lined face. Instead of the crowd helping it seemed to only make it worse. It was irritating as hell! What was the secret to this guy? What made him tick? If it wasn't the crowd, then what would bring the powerful man out again?

"You're, uh..." she set her drink down after a final swallow and glanced up at him again, "you're not really into this kind of thing are you?"

"It's fine," he smiled at her, but it wasn't genuine. She wasn't sure where that came from, how he could be unreadable one moment and then she could get a quick glimpse into what was going on in his head the next, but she knew, at least in this moment, the smile was false.

She smirked, remembering her own recent experience with "being fine". If it was anything like hers and if that smile was any hint, he was anything but "fine" in this place. But he'd been comfortable outside, when it had just been the two of them, when he'd stared at her with a look in his eyes that she thought might actually have been desire. Yes, being alone with a man was definitely something she could work with, and maybe even open a door to a place to spend the night.

"Is there somewhere we can go?" she asked reaching across the wooden table to touch his hand. "Somewhere close by? Somewhere more private than this place?"

He looked down at their hands, then back at her, virtually dumbstruck again. She raised her eyebrows, reminding him that she needed an answer, not a questioning look and he shook his head at her. "My house is…" his voice drifted off, almost sadly, but before she could ask what was wrong with his house he glanced at her again "but there's an apartment that I own! It's just down the street."

An apartment! An apartment that he owned but didn't live in? That just so happened to be vacant? Now he was speaking her language! "What do you say we get out of here?" she asked with a sly smile.

He polished off his drink and nodded before getting off "his seat" a little too eagerly. That was a "yes". Hell that was a "Hell yes, get me out of here!" as far as she was concerned. She followed suit, and was even more pleased when he plopped a few of twenties down on the table and ordered "keep the change" to the bartender. And just like that, there went the tab that she'd racked up. For today, at least. Yes, there could definitely be perks to making friends with Gold. What else they made tonight...she'd just have to find out if there were any perks along that rabbit hole! Once again she threaded her arm through his and watched as the crowd of people parted for them as they made their way out of the bar.

He seemed to relax as the cool clean air touched their skin, even smiled again. With relief maybe? "That was an impressive display of power, what you did in there," she muttered as he guided her down the empty street.

"I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about," but his smirk grew into a smile that betrayed him. He most certainly did know what she was talking about.

"Oh please," she laughed, letting her body fall against him. It was more because she was unsteady on her feet, than trying to be cute, but she managed to make it work in her favor as his arm became ridged, a helpful guide. "I think that man sitting in 'your chair' was about to piss himself," she added with a smile that he didn't seem to notice. She let herself drift closer to him as she swayed again. It must have been the alcohol, she hadn't exactly had any in the hospital and didn't think that the few days she'd been there would make any difference but clearly she needed to build up her tolerance again.

"That was all without lifting a finger," he finally gave her a proud, almost impressed, smile and she couldn't help but feel like she'd accomplished something. The beast was free. Now she had to keep him that way.

"Like I said, it was an impressive display of power. They all give into you without a second thought. It's..." she shook her head and thought back on the way the boy had practically run away screaming from him, "impressive," she repeated as they came to a stop in front of the doors to the town library, "and attractive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True story, I wasn't a terrible fan of Gold and Lacey until I wrote Moments Missed. But in writing this fiction...I don't know things changed for me somehow. I saw Lacey and Gold were completely different than Belle and Rumple and it's an interesting dynamic when you get right down to it. Belle is all about Rumple being...well, Rumple and not the Rumpelstiltskin that she knows to be all darkness. Lacey is the opposite, she's looking to free the beast and keep that darkness alive and, I'll mention more about this in the next chapter but I think Rumple struggles with that a bit throughout this fiction.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	13. New Explorations

He had an apartment in the library? How…strange.

But then again, what wasn't strange about the mysterious Mr. Gold so far?

"A library, huh?" she asked looking around the place as he locked the door again. "You, uh...you like to read that much?" she joked, trying to hide a laugh.

He looked at her for a moment, giving her a strange face that she couldn't quite interpret. She felt awkward under that stare, it was like somehow he kept expecting her to grow an extra head or sprout wings. "Books are incredibly informative in my line of work. They are records of infinite knowledge. And they can take you to anywhere you wish to be without ever actually leaving the comfort of your chair."

"That's uh..." she didn't really know what to say at his words. What he'd said was almost poetic. It didn't make sense to her. He seemed like two people almost. There was the gentle man that stood before her at the moment and then there was the beast within him that she had seen pummeling Keith and intimidating the people at the bar only a short while ago. She much preferred the latter. "That's fascinating," she concluded sarcastically, trying to cover up her laughter. It was also boring.

"Do you like to read? You can take any book you wish. I think you'll find…"

"Who me?!" she questioned, interrupting him. Here he went again. Sometimes he reminded her a little too much of her father for comfort. Although, it wasn't as if he knew her well enough to know anything about her. It was probably best to squash assumptions like that. "Nah, I was never much of a school girl," she explained "you know, I just always thought there was more to learn in life than what you could read in a book or sitting in a classroom. Right?"

He gave a small smirk and a snort. "Right," he whispered, barely audible. But he glanced down at the cane in his hands and she was positive that she just didn't believe him. He was only humoring her. She didn't know what was going through his head. Frankly she didn't care, just so long as he wasn't thinking this was a mistake. She needed a place to stay the night and if he decided she wasn't worth it she would have to figure out something else to do that didn't mean going back to her father and begging for forgiveness.

She stepped up to Mr. Gold and placed a hand over the two on his cane before pressing herself closer to him, practically daring him to kiss her. Maybe if he did it would be easier for him. In her experience kissing was a good ice breaker.

But he didn't, in fact he didn't even look up at her! Just sighed as he stared down at their hands.

"Didn't you say you had an apartment we could go to?" she asked her voice deep as she tried her best to be seductive. The fact that she had to try was testament to how much he'd changed since the moment they crossed over the threshold of the library. She usually didn't have to try, it was one of those things that came naturally to her with practice. But whether it was natural or forced it didn't seem to work as she'd hoped. He still didn't kiss her. Instead he looked up at her with that same wicked smile she'd seen earlier as he'd beat Keith senseless. There was the person she wanted to get to know!

"I did say that didn't I?"

He placed a hand at her back and pushed her through the abandoned reading rooms then led her up a set of stairs in the back. They slowed a bit so that he could get up the stairs with whatever was wrong with his leg, but finally they arrived at the landing on a second floor and a door, he released her from his possessive iron grip and pulled out a set of keys. The door swung open and she boldly walked inside…a very homey looking apartment!

She had to fight the urge to laugh. It just didn't seem to fit his personality. "You live here?" she asked with a snort. "It's so…" she glanced around the space, noting the fake fruits in a bowl, a stack of books on the table, and the flowery bed spread she spied through the bedroom... "Feminine," she concluded. Hell, there was even a rose patterned tea towel over the oven handle! Definitely not what she expected.

"Well, I never really have lived here," he commented in a low voice turning a light on in the kitchen. Ah, that was right. He'd mentioned that he had a house and he just owned the apartment. But still, unless he'd decorated the place himself someone had lived here.

"So, who'd it belong to? An old girlfriend or something?" she questioned, turning back to him as she stepped out of her shoes and tossed the coat onto a neighboring chair. He didn't say anything, just opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as his eyes scanned the room around him reverently. His silence seemed to speak without words. "Oh," she hadn't actually meant it. She meant it to be a joke, but he obviously didn't find it funny. He just looked around the place like it was some sort of shrine to his ex...

His ex. Belle.

Was that the problem? The reason he'd seemed relaxed ont he street but tensed up as if he was being watched the moment he set foot in the library? Obviously he was still hung up on her. But was that why he seemed to be having problems connecting with her? Who on earth was this girl? She didn't know what happened to her, but it must have been traumatic. It must have been horrible enough to have driven him nearly mad and make him think that she was Belle.

She shook her head and leaned against the breakfast nook. "So, uh, what happened?" she asked gently. "To Belle I mean." She wanted to find out eventually, if he was going to be hung up on her she may as well get some information from him. Not that she really cared, in all honesty, she was just curious as hell. "Did she die or something?"

He smirked, but it didn't hide the sad look on his face. "You could say that."

What was that supposed to mean? A person was either dead or alive there was no in between. Did he mean that she was dead to him somehow? That had to be it. How else would that comment make sense? But what could have happened between the two of them to cause a reaction that deep? Had she run out on him? Had she cheated?

"Well, she seems very…" she took another look around the clean apartment taking in the lack of television and radio and the stacks of books…everywhere. "Bland," she stated. "No wonder you came looking for something a little more exciting."

She smiled suddenly as she paced around the apartment, a brand new thought coming to mind that make her heart leap with excitement. If this was where he kept his last girlfriend, and she had no home, his mistaking her for Belle might have been the luckiest thing to have happened to her since she had that fight with her father! Belle might be gone, but she wasn't, and an apartment just happened to be exactly what she was in the market for. But it would need some work, something to make it a bit more her and less...Belle.

Her curiosity got the better of her again. She couldn't help it, she snooped. She wanted to find a picture of the former owner, maybe even a drawing, although the way he acted sometimes she wouldn't be surprised to find an oil painting commissioned to make her look like a princess. But there was nothing, no pictures, nothing to tell her that anyone had ever lived here, until she opened the closet doors and found…clothing?! There were a couple of suits like he might wear, obviously he'd spent the night in the past, but there was also row after row of skirts, blouses, dresses, everything! Not just clothing, much to her dismay it was modest clothing, clothing that hid damn near everything! She grabbed one of the hangers that a dress hung from. It was her size but it fell just above the top of her knees, no cleavage would be shown whatsoever, in fact the only decent amount of skin that would be show was her arms.

"What was she a nun?" she asked with a smirk and a little laugh showing him the blue dress. It wasn't that she hated modesty, she just didn't care what others thought of her. If she wanted to wear short skirts and tight tops that was her problem and anyone who had an issue with that had to deal with it. She wouldn't allow society to make choices for her based on what they thought was "appropriate".

"She was respectable," he argued. Oh, yes, he was certainly still hung up on her. She could hear it in his voice, the way he was defensive about her suggestion. If she had any hope of anything happening between the two of them, she had to get him to get over her. She didn't know what had happened exactly but she'd hurt him, maybe if only because she had gone away. He should be angry…he deserved to be angry.

"No," she pointed out, "my grandmother was respectable and she wore less. This is-"

"I can get you new clothes," he interrupted suddenly. "If you need them."

New clothes? Now he was talking her language. After all, it wasn't just a place to stay she was in need of. She also had no clothes. She hadn't exactly taken the time to pack when she'd stormed out of her father's house, she'd just gone! She'd run as far away as quickly as possible and left everything behind. But...did she need clothes? Did she want them? Yes. But need them?

No. She took another glance through the things left in the closet. Everything was her size. All she really needed was what Belle had left in the closet.

"No," she said going through the dresses. "Fashion has always been my thing, you know," she answered seeing him come into the room to watch her. "I can do something with these." She pulled a few out and laid them over the bed. "Shorten a little here," she muttered more to herself than him as she picked a black number out, which to a nun, like its previous owner, might seem like sexy little black dress but wasn't likely to get her anywhere with any man she'd ever met. She rolled the hem of it up a few inches. That was better. Now for the top. It needed something... "Maybe some scissors, cut the neckline, or make a pattern of some kind. Do you know if there's a sewing kit here somewhere?" she asked. "I don't see a sewing machine, but I can work with just about anything."

"I haven't any idea," he muttered staring down at the dress she'd laid out on the bed. "But I can get you one!" She watched him as he looked up at her and their eyes met. Her attempt at making him angry wasn't working. The beast she'd had the brief encounter with was clearly gone. All that she was left with was the sad love-sick puppy she'd had dinner with. Boring.

But seeing as how they were both standing in a vacant bedroom, she could think of a few things that might take his mind off of Belle and her former apartment. If anger didn't work, would lust?

"I have a feeling," she snaked her arms around his neck, "that you're a man who could give me just about anything I wanted." She watched him eagerly, hoping he'd picked up on her not so subtle innuendo. But, honestly, she couldn't tell if he had or not.

He merely glanced at her arms and smirked at her, with an expression like he was equally impressed and shocked by her bold action. No doubt Belle had probably been prim and proper as well, but this was the twenty-first century. A woman had the right to take what she wanted and to be just as bold in the bedroom as any man could, a statement she'd been perfecting over the years since she arrived in this drab little town. "Yes," he finally breathed after finding his voice. "Anything."

She smirked, liking the sound of that one little word. "Anything" was certainly something she could use right about now. But she knew how the world worked, it wasn't something for nothing. Besides, Gold intrigued her, how would he react to something so primal as sex, would it draw the monster within him out again? The idea excited her so much that she couldn't wait any more to find out. She took the smallest step forward and closed the distance between them, brushing her lips against his in the most tempting kiss she could manage.

Gold hesitated for a moment, but then, finally, after she tightened her grip on him and pressed her body against his own, she felt his hands come around her waist as she was swallowed up in a kiss that she hoped was the definition of "passion". There wasn't much of it coming back from his side, but it wasn't completely dead either. It was there, just hidden under layers of opposing emotions. Not precisely what she'd been hoping for but she'd kissed worse. Hell, she'd slept with worse. And he certainly beat Keith. He had potential, and that was really all she needed to work with. Like a fabric before she turned it into a beautiful dress, given enough time she could make a creation of this Mr. Gold before her. Maybe bring out what he was so intent on hiding deep within.

After a while she had to break away from him for air. She seemed to have managed to give into it, but he stood as straight and still as ever, though her own arms had tightened around his neck the arms he'd placed around her waist remained lose, as if he hadn't decided he wanted them there or not. Was it that? Or was he still just insisting that there was nothing to him than a gentle soul? He stared back at her with a different look. Like he was judging her or searching her for something. It was almost hopeful and full of anticipation. Hopeful for what? What on earth was he expecting?

"Have you ever spent the night before?" she asked. His eyes fell at her question. He had. She knew that! She'd seen the damn suits in the closet! So why was he looking at her like that? Like he was disappointed somehow. He made no sense to her at all. But then again, after the last few weeks, the day that she'd had, and the alcohol making its way back into her system, she couldn't expect much to make sense. Fortunately, nothing had to make sense in order for a good time to be had. And there was no reason why they couldn't indulge in a little adult fun. She bit her lip and did her best to move in closer to him, hoping he would also mold against her. "Because," she whispered "I think we should-"

Before she could finish her sentence his hand was suddenly against her neck, his fingers reaching back to touch the base of her skull were she felt a warm sensation begin to spread through her. Suddenly she felt incredibly tired, woozy almost, so much so that she felt her legs slacken and his arms tighten around her before she could fall. The world seemed foggy again, almost like when she'd been in the hospital, and she had the feeling that she was being laid down on the bed. Then, just before her head hit the pillow and she gave into sleep, she could have sworn she heard the lightest voice whisper "I'm sorry, Belle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Moments Controversy Part...I've lost track of what part we're in, but it's a controversy nonetheless. Did Gold sleep with Lacey? Moments Spoiler Alert: No, I don't believe that he did and therefore there will be no Golden Lace sex in Moments Missed. Here's my thinking for that. Rumple...he loves Belle and like I said in the last chapter being with Lacey and not Belle is definitely going to make him struggle a little between being her Rumple and the Dark One, but when it comes to Belle...here's the thing. He loves her, he's protective of her, and with the way he thinks about Gaston and certain things in Moments Exiled I'm fairly certain that he would equate having sex with Lacey to rape. Lacey may be at the helm but to him he struggles not to see Belle. Here you could see it a bit. Why was he staring at her after they kissed? He was waiting to see if TLK had worked. Now, like I said, Belle is only Lacey for three days, do I think if she was Lacey for longer he would have given in eventually? Yeah, maybe, but for now...I just don't think he's going to give in so quickly. He's going to have a little fun being dark, keep her at his side, all the while hoping that she'll fall in love with him because he's old enough to know that while part of him may like Lacey, all of him loves Belle. And he'll respect that.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	14. What Happened

She woke up with a violent jerk, her heart racing, her lungs out of breath, and her head pounding. The sunlight spilling in through the strange windows only seemed to make her head hurt more. She glanced around and managed to put together that she was alone in the little room and so she fell back against the bed and squeezed her eyes shut against the light that was too brilliant for her to take. Exhaustion, a headache, sensitivity to bright lights...she must have had a hangover. God, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had one of those! How much did she have to drink yesterday?! It didn't seem like more than her usual amount. But then again, she hadn't had a drop of alcohol in her system once she'd gone into the hospital. She'd only been there a few days but...no, if she thought about it too hard her head started hurting again. That must have been the answer. All she really needed to do was build up her tolerance again and in the meantime, she remembered the cure well enough. Hot shower, sleep, and some aspirin. It probably wouldn't take the pounding in her head away completely but it would be a good start.

She opened her eyes and risked a glance at the clock on the bedside. Well, technically it was still morning. Not by much, but it was close enough to count. What exactly had happened last night? Where was she? Her memories were foggy but she could remember getting out of the hospital, the Rabbit Hole, and...Keith.

Her eyes rolled instinctively at the memory of the man as she wondered if anyone had found him by the time the pair had left last night. They hadn't exactly turned to check as they walked down Main Street. The pair of them? They? Yes, that was right. She'd been with Gold. He'd beaten her would-be-lover senseless then they'd had a drink together. He'd told her about the apartment he had and they'd gone back there immediately. That was where she was! The apartment, over the library!

But here she lay, alone in the bed, clothes intact, bedding still in place, and tucked in with a light blanket as if she was eight! She had a vague memory of standing with him before the bed and kissing him, then being overwhelmingly tired…and then…words? No. It must have been her imagination. It really all got very hazy after that kiss.

But then…she'd dreamed. No. Not dreamed.

She'd remembered. Clearly.

Those damn hallucinations haunted her. She'd dreamed of the echo. Not the sound, just the echo of it, like thunder maybe. It had been raining that night, or so the hallucination in her mind said. It might be a lie for all she knew. After the echo, she could remember falling, being lowered to the ground by someone who turned out to be none other than Gold. It was all so clear that if it wasn't for the woman with the lack of memories and what came next she'd believe that it was truth instead of lies. But it was after her mind told her that he'd caught her and laid her down that it got unrealistic, crazy even, although she would never admit that to anyone. She could remember the argument and remember not having any idea what it really was about. Why her mind would make up something undecipherable was beyond her and why she would dream up Mr. Gold, or worse Mr. Gold holding a ball of fire, was a complete mystery.

She wished that was as strange as it got, but her mind had told her otherwise. She could also remember the pain and the blood seeping from a wound at her shoulder. A great gaping hole that had felt much worse than it actually looked. But then, she could remember, trying to crawl away from Gold, trying to figure out what was going on around her, why she was there, why he was there, why her shoulder hurt. She could remember huddling herself there in front of a strange car and wishing that she could just disappear as easily as she seemed to have appeared. Still, the Gold in her mind was insistent, he refused to give up as she fought against him. Her shoulder had flexed painfully, she'd cried out, and right before her eyes his hand had glowed purple and the wound, the blood, the pain, all of it, had faded away just like…like magic.

She felt her heart beat fast against her chest just at the very thought. It was ridiculous really. Magic?! There was no such thing as magic! In fairy tales maybe but the real world?! It wasn't true, any of it! But what pissed her off the most about it, about the hallucinations, about getting her memories back, was the fact that she still couldn't make sense of that night. She had everything up until the moment she'd been about to cross the town line and had seen the cars head lights, but there was nothing after that. They'd told her she'd been hit by a car, but no one had told her how she'd gotten from the line to the hospital. It irritated her because she had nothing else to believe but a false reality! She couldn't-no, she wouldn't believe that! There had to be a reasonable explanation for why she had  _that_  set of hallucinations. She'd hit her head hadn't she? Maybe there was nothing to remember. Maybe she'd just been knocked unconscious and what she was recalling, the hallucinations, maybe they were nothing more than a dream she'd had.

Why Mr. Gold though? Why had she dreamt of him when she hadn't even known him? Why had he shown up at the hospital right away? There had to be a logical reason for all of it, she just knew it! But when she tried to focus, the think about it and put two and two together, her head suddenly began to explode all over again. All of this thinking about dreams and hallucinations and time lines and town lines was making her head ache worse. She was going to figure out what happened out there, but first she was going to get rid of the pounding in her skull and maybe ask Gold how he'd come to the hospital so fast.

Speaking of Gold, if he wasn't by her side, then where was he? She managed to sit up and felt her head spin. She did her best to shield her eyes from the incoming sunlight and stood up. It wasn't the best feeling in the world but at least she was steady on her feet. She could remember swaying last night and thinking that it was the cause of readjusting to the alcohol. Now that she was clear-headed she knew that it wasn't just a guess, it was the truth. She needed to get something to drink. It was unusual for even her to drink this early without cause, but feeling this way when she got up couldn't continue. In her mind that constituted an early morning drink. She wandered out of the room and into the small living area and kitchen. Gold was there, sitting on a stool at the breakfast nook, he was reading a book and drinking…oh thank God he made coffee! She hurried forward into the area and began going through the cupboards looking for a mug.

"There is tea in the cabinet to your left," he pointed out. Again with the tea! It was last night all over again.

"I don't like tea," she corrected with maybe a little more snap than she meant to show. "Coffee, I need coffee. Where the hell are the mugs?!"

"Also in the cabinet to your left..." he mumbled. She didn't really care if she sounded rude. Her head was pounding, she needed caffeine, she needed alcohol, and good God did she need an aspirin! But one at a time. She pulled the mug out of the specified cupboard and poured herself some of the black liquid then took a greedy gulp, not caring that it burned her tongue.

She leaned against the counter and couldn't help the relaxed sigh that left her lungs. That small bit of normalcy already had her feeling half way back to her old self. "Can I get you anything to eat?" she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, the book pushed aside, and his hair damp. Apparently he'd already had a shower. God, what time did he get up?! And why?! He'd been up just as late her…later even, since, she assumed, he'd been the one to put her to bed. What the hell was the fun of staying up all night if you couldn't enjoy sleeping through the morning? "There are eggs, muffins…"

She shook her head, cutting him off but making her head pound more. Bad idea. "Aspirin," she begged. "Is there any around?"

He paused for a moment and looked around the room, like it would just be sitting out on the pristine surfaces waiting for him if only he looked hard enough. But then pushed himself up, like he'd just had a thought. "Maybe..." he muttered, stalking away from her back toward the bedroom.

She managed to resist shaking her head, but couldn't quite help the eye roll. Mysterious man. Frustrating man! Did he ever say anything that was on his mind or did he really just expect her to jump on every little thought train! She let out a sigh, frustrated that even she could hear the crankiness in her thoughts. Damn. Mornings had always been a bitch. Apparently that hadn't changed. But fortunately it would be easy to get rid of that. She set her coffee down and began opening and closing cabinets, the fridge, drawers even. There had to be something in this tiny apartment.

"Here," she turned abruptly to see him strolling out of the bedroom with a white bottle in his hand. "It was in the bathroom cabinet," he smirked with what looked like tender pride. Obviously something amused him.

"What's so funny?" she asked, snatching it from his hand without bothering to hide her morning temperament.

"Nothing," he answered with a shake of his head as he took his seat again.

It was one word but it pissed her off more than anything else had so far. This early in the morning she didn't have the tolerance to play games or the patience for anything like this, his thoughts, his smirks, his secrets! In an hour or so? Sure, she'd manage. Now? Hell no! "It doesn't seem like nothing," she snapped inhaling another gulp of coffee with her pills.

"It's where we always kept them in my…" he glanced up at her and stopped mid sentence. "Never mind, not important." She didn't need him to finish the sentence, it was written on his smug, attached, overly impressed face. His precious Belle had stashed the medicine in the same place he kept them at his house. She had just enough restraint not to roll her eyes at him but only if she turned away and began going through the kitchen again. She needed a drink. And he really needed to get over this girl and move onto something more interesting. Preferably her.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked after a moment.

"I need a drink," she stated "please tell me there's  _something_  in here."

He let out a sigh that sounded almost as frustrated as she felt, but nevertheless he rose from his chair and hobbled into the spit of a kitchen. He pulled out one of the drawers and revealed three bottles of wine laying side by side. Jackpot. And it wasn't just the kind that Granny served, it was the good stuff. Surprising. She wouldn't have taken this Belle for a drinker! But then she reached around him and pulled one of the bottles out-it wasn't full, but it wasn't empty either. So she wasn't a drinker then, just one of  _those_  woman. The kind that "indulged" in a glass every now and then before bed. There was nothing wrong with that, she just had a far different opinion of how to enjoy fine wine. Those women thought it was all about taking small sips, she believed that it actually had to be consumed. It wasn't about the taste, it was about the feeling. And that required large quantities, not delicate slurps.

She'd find a wine glass later, when she was more put together, in the meantime she'd forgo that. It wasn't as if it wasn't all going to end up in the same place eventually, her stomach, and with any luck, her veins. She opened the bottle and took a long pull from it. Better. There was a warmth spreading through her belly just like…last night.

It was hard to remember what had happened, but she remembered a warm sensation at the back of her skull, just before it all started to get foggy. She inadvertently reached back and felt the place the feeling had originated. Nothing. At least nothing out of the ordinary.

"Is there a problem?" she glanced up to find Gold staring at her from his seat again. Not that she could blame him, she'd just downed a swallow of alcohol and was now feeling the back of her head like she expected to find a hidden coin slot!

"No of course not," she muttered trying to make it look like she was only rubbing a stiff neck. "So, uh..." she set the bottle down and refilled her empty mug before glancing back at him. "What happened last night?"

"Don't you remember?" he smirked proudly and almost arrogantly.

"Would I be asking if I did?" It was the right attitude, but not the one that she wanted him to use on her, especially if they had done anything together last night. She did have certain standards.

He snorted and shook his head slightly, "No, I suppose not. Well, you've nothing to fear, dearie. When we arrived you complained about being dizzy and wanted to lie down. You fell asleep shortly thereafter."

She found herself breathing a sigh of relief and not being entirely sure why. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd blacked out and slept with a guy, but for whatever reason she couldn't fathom why it would have bothered her to have done it with Gold. "So nothing…happened?" she clarified.

His proud smirk suddenly faded into a dark angry glare and she couldn't quite figure out what she'd said to make him so angry. "There have been many people and situations that I've taken advantage of in my years, but  _that_ is not one of my many sins," he stated. Before she could make a comment about the odd statement, he rose from his chair and moved around her to set his mug in the sink. "I've an errand to run. I'll be back shortly. The apartment is yours until I return," he stated coldly, then without another word, he left. The door slamming slightly in his wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah...welcome to the Mysterious Second Day! Why is it mysterious you ask? Because we have no idea what went on between Gold and Lacey during this time. 2x19 was day one, 2x21 & 2x22 became day three, but 2x20 was a Regina centric episode. No Belle/Lacey, no Gold/Rumple (at least not in Storybrooke) and that leaves us to speculated what happened during this day. To sum it up for Moments? Chaos. You can expect Gold to be outrageous in order to keep Belle safely by his side until he can fix her (because I do believe that if Leroy had come in and handed him that potion any other time when the world wasn't ending he would have given it to Belle in a heartbeat). But you can also expect me to play with Lacey a bit. You saw that in this chapter, toward the beginning when she woke up. I have to somehow get her from "There's no such thing as Magic" to "Whoa, magic does exist!" on day three, but I've also got to get her from 2x19's "I'm not [Belle]!" to 2x22's accepting of "It's from our past". For that, I've got to completely shatter her delusions of the present. It's going to be a fun ride! Ready? Hold on tight because here we gooooo!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	15. Not the Girlfriend Type

She had the entire place to herself. The moment that he left and the quiet settled in she realized just how nice it was. Small and feminine as the apartment was, it was wonderful to have some space and time alone. The area was quite, but pleasant and in his absence she took the time to walk aimlessly around, not snooping, but curiously opening drawers and doors, looking under the bed, in the closet, and turning switches on and off. She wasn't sure what exactly she was looking for, options, a game plan, answers, but what she found was another day. Considering her economic status day to day was all she needed.

She double checked the clothes she'd found in the closet last night. They may not have been her style but at least there were a lot of them and they were her size and there were a lot of them! But it only added to her assumption that the girl, Belle, had died and it was probably sudden. It was the only logical explanation she could come up with! There were infinite reasons why a woman would break up with a man, she should know because she'd invented a few of those reasons herself. Still, she didn't know Gold well but she already could name a few traits that bugged her and she was sure would make a woman leave him...but she couldn't think of one reason why she would leave so suddenly that her clothes, her shoes, her belongings, even her underwear were left behind!

Then again that was exactly what she'd done, with her father. She'd never go back there if her life depended on it, but that was different. She'd been pushed over the edge, driven away. Was it possible that was what had happened with Belle? Had he pushed her away and the comment he'd made was just a wish that she'd died? Was that how she'd hurt him? She shook her head. Even in this short time she could already tell, it just didn't seem like him. He wouldn't speak so lovingly and devotedly about her if he spent his time thinking she was dead to him. No, she had to have died for real somehow.

When she opened the closet by the kitchen she was greeted with another wonderful sight that also solved another of her problems. A stacked washer and dryer. Excellent. She'd put on some of the dead girls clothes, get out of this dress, then maybe buy a sewing kit first thing to make some much needed changes to the forgotten wardrobe! But she wouldn't wear some stranger's underwear. Even if she did look like her and even if they were in her size, it was just too nasty to consider. The bras, sure, after making sure they were thoroughly washed, but underwear...hell no! She peeled off the garment she'd stolen yesterday and set some other items she found around the space to wash then went to the bathroom, gathered some clean towels and a robe and stepped into the blessedly warm shower.

She may not have known Belle, but she'd say this much about her: the girl could clean. There was hardly a spec of dust anywhere! The shower, the kitchen, the entire apartment, all were cleaner than she'd ever kept her room in her entire life. Then again the apartment was far nicer than she would have expected for someone who lived over a public library. Still no matter what she thought of the mystery of it's former occupant, the more time she spent in the apartment the more and more she could see herself living in it long term. Of course, like anyone else would, she wanted out of this town, but she was smarter than her father gave her credit for. She couldn't go to New York. Not right way, as she wanted, at least. She needed money first! But she couldn't help but wonder if maybe she could convince him to let her stay. It would certainly be better than trying to score a different couch every night, or going home with a different guy, and stealing clothes. Of course she could offer to pay rent, but if he liked her...she wondered if maybe he'd let her stay for free.

She'd never really considered herself the girlfriend type. She was too indifferent about the world and she knew that, she was okay with it because that was just who she was. But if it meant getting her off the street, and a job that went only toward a fund for New York, she could pull it off. If it was only for a while, she could force herself to make the best of it, but only under certain circumstances...the right circumstances.

Free room and board was worth a lot, but she wasn't going to settle for the way he tried to take control and order for her. But with any luck those were adjustments easily made. Not so easily made was how he talked to her, how he was going back and forth between angry, sinister, mystery man, and frail, old, rich man. Although the mystery man scenario worked far better for her, she'd much rather he be angry at the world instead of her...as he clearly had been when he'd stormed out.

She really hadn't meant to make him mad, or to imply that he'd drugged or raped her or something terrible like that. Good God why the hell would he jump to that conclusion! She might not have been a perfect little school girl but if there was one thing she prided herself on it was her instincts! If there had been even an inkling of possibility that she thought he would hurt her she would have sensed it and she wouldn't have come within three miles of him. The fact that she'd allowed him to bring her here should have spoke volumes to him as to how much she trusted him. Why couldn't that be good enough?! It was irritating as hell. But it was one more thing that she was certain she could show him-she was trustworthy. Trustworthy enough to get that hidden something that lurked within him to emerge. Was that what could have chased the apartments previous tenant away?

Clean and her head hurting a little less from the warm water, she stepped out of the steamy bathroom, pulled the robe over her shoulders and went to move her laundry into the dryer. She thumbed through the various dresses and skirts hanging up in the closet and finally settled on a black skirt that wasn't terribly long. If she had a kit she would have still hemmed it more than a couple of inches, but the material would be easy enough to roll over her hips. What was the point of having great legs if she didn't show them off?

In the drawer there were tops galore in multiple colors and cuts, no cuts that she particularly cared for...but she could make do with it. A little tuck, a little roll, and it would be much more her instead of ex-girlfriend-Belle. There was make-up in the bathroom, which matched her complexion, thank God! From what she'd seen she half expected to find nothing. With a little searching she also managed to find a hair dryer and some accessories that she could use. She tried to be calm, to keep her imagination from getting away from her, but she couldn't help it, the more she explored the more she couldn't help but think that if she inherited this apartment, she'd be in heaven. The only thing lacking here was that sewing kit. If she got that and maybe some underwear of her own, she'd have it made!

She styled her hair and applied the make-up while she waited for her things to finish drying, then went into the kitchen, picked up the bottle of wine from where she'd left it and took another swallow. She sighed in ecstasy. Honestly, why anyone would only sip at the good stuff was beyond her. While she was in the kitchen she grabbed a piece of bread and shoved it into the toaster oven, finally feeling awake enough to acknowledge hunger, and let her eyes roam around the sparkling empty space. Her eyes inadvertently fell over the bottle of aspirin that she hadn't put away yet and couldn't help but flashback to that strange moment he'd gotten it for her.

She knew exactly what she thought of this place. She knew exactly what she thought of him. What she didn't know was what to think of him in this place. She didn't particularly want to talk about the girl he'd mistaken her for, the way she saw it she'd only just managed to convince him that she wasn't Belle the last thing she wanted to do was dwell on the subject, but that left her to put the mystery of the life they'd shared together on her own.

He seemed comfortable here and was familiar enough to know the layout of the kitchen, but was unfamiliar with the little things that would come to someone who really lived here-like where the aspirin would be. It was only after a moment of consideration that he'd taken a good guess at its location. How much time had he actually spent over here? Last night she would have thought that he had never come back here that much with his former girlfriend, but now she couldn't help but feel that he had spent nights here before. Why else would his suits be in the closet? Saintly as this girl sounded they couldn't be anyone else's!

She had also guessed that he didn't have Belle over to his house, based on the reaction he'd had at her suggestion to go home at the bar last night, but she would have had to have been there in order to know where he kept the pill bottle. Then again, maybe it hadn't been as much a matter of knowing and guessing as just a coincidence. Medicine in the medicine cabinet?! What a leap! A person would have to have been born in another world not to look there first. Frankly why she hadn't looked there first on her own was baffling!

The buzzer on the dryer went off and she jumped, fumbling the wine bottle in her hand and catching it just before it could shatter and spill it's precious contents on the floor. She shook her head at how unlike herself she was being. After everything that had happened in her life, why was she questioning a lucky break? It was what it was. She should do what she did best, what she'd done her entire life since the moment her mother had died. She should take advantage of the situation that had fallen into her lap. The richest man in town was interested in her. He had a vacant apartment she could use. He was lonely. She was alone in the world. There was no reason they both couldn't prosper in whatever the hell kind of relationship they'd started.

She collected her things and went into the bedroom to change and await his return; whenever that would be, he hadn't exactly said. But as it turned out she didn't have long to wait. She'd just replaced her underwear when she heard the door open as if her thoughts had summoned him. There was hesitation for a second before he called out her name, where she didn't need to look at him to know that he'd nearly called out "Belle" instead of "Lacey", but she ignored it. That wasn't so much a matter of getting over her as a bad habit that needed correcting. At least that was what she told herself. "Lacey, I have something for you," he called again.

She wrapped herself back up in the robe at the summons. She usually wasn't so modest but if nothing had happened last night and if he was back to being humble and gentle around her, then there was no need to shock the poor guy. They'd work up to it and maybe cross that line tonight if she could keep giving him reasons to keep her around. The "poor guy" might question her, but there was no doubt in her mind that the monster liked her. If she could find more of that man, she'd be okay.

When she went out into the small living space she found him standing beside a table with a-

She stopped dead.

She had only ever been speechless in her life two other times: when her mother had told her she was dying and the moment that death had finally arrived. But as she took in the sight of him beaming at her and standing next to a familar object she found herself speechless again.

A sewing machine! A brand new sewing machine!

What the hell was she supposed to say to that?! She felt as though her heart had stopped and she let her eyes roamed over the beautiful contraption. Where did he get that? And how the hell had he gotten it up here so quickly with his disability? Was this his errand? Was this where he'd gone? To buy her a sewing machine?!

He'd listened last night! When she told him that she preferred fashion and needed a sewing kit...he'd actually listened! No one had ever listened to her before, not since her mother had died, not since she'd moved here. Hell, he hadn't just listened and gotten her a kit he'd gone above and beyond and gotten her an entire sewing machine! And everything she could think of to go with it, spools of thread, empty bobbins, fabric sheers, needles, seam rippers...it went on and on!

She didn't know what to say, how to respond, or even what to do! She could feel tears threatening to gather in her eyes but managed to hold them in. She didn't cry. She hadn't cried in years and she certainly wasn't going to let something like this break her streak. Calm and cool. She needed to stay calm and cool...though for the first time in a while calm and cool was difficult. This was amazing! Impossible even. But here it was before her and she felt...she wasn't sure what she felt.

"Did you do this for me?" she managed, swallowing back a few surprised tears.

He nodded slowly. "I hope you like it," he answered.

"It's, um..." she swallowed and took a few casual steps toward her prize trying to figure out what to say to him. Beautiful? Radiant? Awesome? She begged her mind to work again! Pick an adjective! Any adjective would do!

"It's all you should need-"

"And then some," she interrupted looking at the thread, mesmerized. There had to be three dozen colors here. How in the world had he "It's..." she struggled to find the words again. How was it possible that she'd gotten this lucky just from running away from home like an angry teenager?! She didn't know what to think of this arrangement, of how they'd met, or of how they felt about each other; she wasn't the girlfriend type, but if it came with perks like this…she certainly could be. "It's perfect," she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Problem Solving for Moments 101. I needed Belle to suddenly have a full wardrobe that wasn't entirely put together and almost grungy looking...without her having the wardrobe. In the end I don't know why I decided to make Lacey a fashion guru. I think, in all honesty, that was just something that stuck with me since I saw her in 2x19. "Well she certainly has a very different idea of fashion than Belle has!" Somehow that just always stuck with me as her being into that sort of thing. And it kinda seemed to line up with Belle, not to mention when we finally get back to Belle in the next fiction Moments Shared and Unshared (MH&U because you know MS&U was taken) I found that it actually made sense with the way Belle dressed and even added to her character a bit. So I hope you like this little add on, I hope you don't think it's too out there.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	16. Power and Class

The sewing machine was perfect! She couldn't wait to try it out, but if she was going to do this she was going to do it right!

She found a pencil and some paper and quickly sketched out a couple of the less hopeless dresses she'd spotted last night: a black one, a green one, and the top and skirt she'd chosen to wear today. She looked them over, felt the fabric, checked the colors of thread she had, and then took her pencil to the drawings she'd created and started altering. She hemmed all the skirts by inches, then went to work on the necklines, doing something a little bit different for each.

On the dark purple sweater she'd chosen for today she created a square neckline, making what was round into sharp corners, and drew little diamond patterns up and down the arms, along the sides to match, and up and down the back and front to reveal skin.

On the green dress she erased the back, lowering it so that it would just barely touch her waist. It was radical but it really gave new meaning to the word backless and she was always ready to shock and amaze with her designs. She also rid it of its sleeves and planned to use the excess fabric to create straps that she could tie around her neck. And hell while she was at it, she gave it into a plunging neckline. After all, if she was going to go for it she may as well  _really_  go for it. It would make a nice dress for a dinner out sometime, not to mention get her plenty of stares from the men she met. It didn't exactly leave much to the imagination.

But the black dress she'd found, she had plans for that. She was going to turn Belle's pitiful excuse for a little black dress into a real, sexy little black dress. Of course she would have killed for lace! It was her trademark on all of the little black dresses she'd designed in Australia, but if there ever was a time to branch out and try new things, it was when materials were scarce. If she didn't have lace then she'd make her own version of it. On the drawing she drew little lines through the top, making it look ripped and distressed all along the neckline. She made a note about taking it in a couple of inches so that it wouldn't just hang, it would cling, skin-tight against her. And when she looked at the sketch she couldn't help but be proud of herself. It wouldn't even need that much sewing, just along the hem at the back, and scissors for the tears. And she liked the pattern so much that she applied it to the bottom. Between that and the hem, it would allow her to show a couple more inches of her legs, without being too trashy, and that was just fine for her. Of course none of these designs would be fit for the red carpet, but they were more her and a definite improvement on what they had been.

Drawings done she grabbed one of the dress shirts that he had hung up in the closet, buttoned it over herself, and rolled up the sleeves to work. She smirked when he dropped and shattered the glass he'd been holding as she pranced out of the room. Men, powerful or not, were all men in the end. A little leg and a beautiful woman in nothing but a thin layer of cloth had the same effect on all of them.

She spent the rest of the afternoon at the machine: cutting, pinning, hemming, sewing...she couldn't have been happier. Yesterday she was homeless and wandering around aimlessly. Today she was sitting in an apartment, with clothes, a sewing machine, and her memories. She was in her element. It wasn't New York, but it was certainly a lot closer than she'd ever imagined she'd be in only twenty-four hours. Who said dreams didn't come true?

He remained silent through the hours she worked. If she hadn't been so absorbed in the task at hand she would have been put off by it, but as it was she let him sit behind her and paid him no attention. She had no idea what he was doing with these hours, but so long as he didn't object to her being there at the machine it was perfectly fine with her. Hell, if he wasn't talking then he wasn't complaining, which made him much better company than her father ever would have been. He would have whined that she should have just gone to work with her time and made money, or picked up a bloody book to study. As if that would have helped her.

Finally, after hours of hard work, she put the scissors she'd been using to make the pattern in the black dress down, and held up the garments that she'd made. She was pleased. No, she was more than that. She was ecstatic! She gathered the clothes up and rushed into the bedroom to spread them out on the bed in the sunlight. Perfect. She rid herself of her work shirt and fit the sweater over her head, she pulled on the hose she'd bought yesterday, and added the skirt. Not perfect. Better than perfect! Precise! Genius! Astounding! Whatever word there was for better than perfect she was wearing it right now!

She strutted out into the room again and threw her arms out wide. "Well, what do you think?"

He looked her over again, but this time managed not to drop anything. "You look-"

"Great right!" she interrupted, unable to stop herself from beaming. She felt so much better than yesterday. Forget retail therapy, she'd take this over that any day! He just continued to stare, like he had all day. In fact, she was beginning to feel like he'd done nothing but stare since they'd left the Rabbit Hole last night, and it was starting to get old. She wanted something different, something more than staring, and she wanted it now! She walked confidently over to the stunned man and forced his hands onto her waist before wrapping her own arms around his neck and pressing herself closer to him. "What do you think?" she whispered.

It took a moment, but he finally let out a breath that he'd been holding in. "I think I should have believed you when you said you could make your own clothes."

Technically, she hadn't said that, but it was close enough and at least it was more than a stare. "Well, I'm glad you see the error of your ways," she paused curious if he would make a move on her. Pressed together like this, if there ever was a moment to do it, now was certainly that moment. She waited a few a few heartbeats. But he did nothing. "You know," she tried again, "I think we should go out tonight. Maybe stop at the Rabbit Hole, show these innocent townsfolk what real class and power look like."

Finally his face wavered and he offered a pleased smirk. "This is what power and class look like?"

She smiled right on back, "with the right attitude it does." If he wasn't going to make a move then she would, so she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. She offered one kiss, then another, and another. She kept waiting for the kisses to deepen, for him to give in and pull her against him instead of having to push. She kept waiting to be lost within him, but it never happened. She'd hoped they might at least have improved on what they'd had last night, but it was just the same as it had been then, only now it felt more disappointing. But if she'd learned anything over her lifetime it was that kissing was an art form and it could be taught. And the idea of chemistry! Ridiculous! It was practice that made perfect! She pulled away from him and put on her best smile, pretending it was nothing. It was a good thing that she wasn't looking for love in this relationship.

"I'll get my coat and we can…shit!" Her coat! In all the excitement she'd nearly forgotten.

"Lacey?" he questioned when she backed away and began frantically tryign to locate the place she'd dropped the coat last night. She was supposed to sew the tag back in and return the damn thing first thing this morning, before Nike found out Misty let her take it, and fired the poor girl. The tag was secondary it could simply have been damaged in a shipment but the coat had to be back for inventory. "Lacey, what's-"

"I have to run over to Modern Fashions, like...now!" she explained, searching for the shoes she'd bought yesterday.

"Modern Fashions?"

"It's across the street from Granny's diner-"

"I know where it is, it's down the street from my shop."

Shop? Oh, right, the pawn shop thing. She'd been so focused on him owning the town she had nearly forgotten that he was also the local pawnbroker. It would be handy to remember. But what would have been even handier was to remember to return what she'd borrowed from the store before someone lost their job! Or worse, before Misty ratted her out and called Sheriff Graham on her. How could she have been so stupid?!

"I used to work there," she explained to him, "I borrowed this coat for last night and promised to return it this morning before Nike got in and could notice..." she glanced at the clock as she stepped back into the pumps, "which would have been hours ago. Dammit!" she whispered harshly.

Nike worked like clockwork, she had to since she had, what seemed like, a million children to take care of. It also made her ridiculously strict, and sometimes she'd even really sworn she had eyes in the back of her head. But, fortunately, if she knew Nike, and she did, in about ten minutes she would go back into her office and not emerge for another hour as she sorted through budgets. It would have been ideal if she'd returned it before then, but so long as she got it back then she would recheck her numbers and chalk it up to an error of some kind. "Come on," she slipped on the coat and grabbed his hand, "we have to go."

She wanted to pull off her shoes and break into a sprint, but Gold acted like it was nothing. He took his sweet time locking up the apartment and then the library, and instead of hurrying down the street he took a nice leisurely stroll. He was the most frustrating man she'd ever known in her life! What part of "right now" hadn't he understood?!

She peered through the windows as she got closer. No Nike, but Kimberly was working the counter. Misty was one thing but Kimberly was a completely different situation. She, her mother, and her sister didn't exactly have the reputation for being angels. Hell, rumor had it her step-sister, Ashley, had gotten so sick of them she'd gotten a job as a maid to get out of that house! She'd never really had much to do with her over the years, Kimberly preferred to work nights, not days. And since this was a shift she had normally worked, she could only guess that Nike had forced Kimberly to work now in order to replace her. She wasn't going to be happy with her and she certainly wouldn't be understanding. Damn.

She took a deep breath, let go of Gold's hand, which she hadn't realized she'd been holding the entire way, and stepped inside the shop. Kimberly barely looked up at her as she shimmied out of the coat. She checked the door to the manager's office. Closed. Perfectly fine with her. "Hey," she whispered to Kimberly, "I promised I'd return this and I'm sorry it's late but it was just one of those night's if you know what I mean."

Kimberly looked between her and the coat she'd set on the counter. "What the…" but she stopped speaking as she suddenly glanced behind her. "Mr. Gold."

"Miss Tremaine," he muttered authoritatively, taking command of the room with two words. "How is your dear mother?"

Kimberly looked like she'd just seen a ghost and she used it to her advantage as she crept around the counter and located the bag of clothes she'd left behind yesterday. "She's fine. Just fine."

"And still no word on your beloved sister? How long has she been missing now?" She ignored Kimberly's stuttering as she retrieved her prize. It was all still here, the coat was returned, now all she had to do was hope Kimberly didn't notice the fact that she'd forgotten to sew the tag back in, not tell Nike what had happened, Misty would still have a job, and she would be out of a jail cell. How much better could it get? "And your niece?" Gold went on, "growing every day I'd imagine."

"Well," Kimberly swallowed, "a-actually we ha-haven't..."

But what they hadn't done, or what they were talking about for that matter, she would never figure out because the managers door swung open at that moment with a furious crack and Nike walked out putting on a coat and gloves. Bloody hell just when she was nearly home free...

"Drizella, I have to run home, one of the kids called and it sounds like they-Mr. Gold!" Nike stopped dead at the sight of the pair of them in the room.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Ledershue, I trust business is profitable. At least I hope it is for your sake."

She couldn't help but smirk as she watched the exchange. It was fascinating, just as much as last night had been. Nike could be harsh, she'd never seen her be anything less than in control of every situation, and yet the sight of Gold standing before her and she acted like she wasn't even in the room. This was exactly what she had seen last night in the bar, the part of him that she'd liked. Power. There was nothing out of the ordinary in his words, but the attitude behind them suggested a veiled threat. She liked that, although she very much doubted that he would pick up his cane and begin beating two women like he had with Keith last night.

"It's fine," Nike answered, "I'll have the rent for you on time this month."

"Oh, I've no doubt you will, Dearie," he responded taking another couple of steps toward her. "But I'm more curious about last month's rent. The rent I generously gave you two more weeks gather."

"I'll have it ready for you next time."

"Now, Dearie," he smiled falsely, coming a bit closer to the woman who was looking more and more nervous with ever step, "that wasn't the agreement we made. If memory serves me correctly you promised you'd have the money three days ago."

"I thought that with you gone and, well...things in town, being what they are-"

"I'd forgotten!" he gave a sinister laugh "Oh, well I never forget a deal, Dearie, surely you haven't forgotten that. How are your children?" Nike went whiter than a ghost. "Remind me again how many you have? It must be ten, twelve, fourteen? All to replace-"

"What do you want?" she interrupted with a frightened swallow.

"Well, I would think that would be obvious-"

"I don't have the money on me."

"Then what do you have?"

Nike swallowed and cast her a suspicious look, but not an angry one. She'd never seen her scared before, but she could recognize the look anywhere. Now the question was why was she so scared. Exactly how much power did this man have? And what was she afraid he'd do if she couldn't pay the rent?

"Move Drizella." Drizella? That was strange, she could have sworn the girls name was Kimberly. But then again she'd never really worked with her. It was possible she'd mistaken her for someone else. After all, half the town had mistaken her for someone else. Nike moved to the cash register, withdrew, and counted an obscene amount of money. However, she supposed he didn't get to be the richest man in town by charging cheap rent. "There," she reached across and handed him the bills. "That's half of what we owe you. We can give you the rest the next time we pay rent. Is that all?"

"Not. Quite." He spat through gritted teeth as he tore the money from her grip. She watched as he reached down and picked up the coat that she'd been so desperate to return. "Lacey," he turned and handed her the coat without taking his intimidating eyes off Nike and Kimberly. Drizella? "That's a good faith payment. I'm certain that you'll have it all in a couple of weeks the next time I stop by."

"I will."

"Perfect!" he exclaimed. "Then there will be no more need for pleasant chats like this in the future. Am I right Mrs Ledershue?" She nodded gravely and Gold turned on his heel back to her. With a touch of his hand he led her to the door. "I look forward to the next time we meet. Have a nice day, Dearie," he added as they left the shop with smiles plastered on both of their faces.

That was incredible, a completely different kind of rush than the power that she had experienced in the past. Brute force, like the type he'd used last night on Keith, that was what she was used to that was her idea of power. But intimidation! She'd underestimated that particular show of power. He hadn't had to lift a finger, hadn't had to raise his voice, he didn't even have to make clear statements, and Nike had just handed over half the cash register! It was impressive. It was inspiring. It was awesome, and great, and glorious...it was enough to make her think that Mr. Gold mistaking her for Belle might have been the best thing that had ever happened to her in her life.

She threaded her arm through his as he guided them down the street. "This," she whispered in his ear, "is precisely what power and class looks like."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited, but only for something small. Originally it was Anastasia that I had working in the shop. After Once Upon a Time in Wonderland came out I went back and changed it to Drizella. No biggie. Unless we get some kind of backstory for Drizella it'll remain her. On a completely unrelated note...anyone manage to figure out Nike Ledershue is in the Enchanted Forest? I made it up on my own but I figured...why not?
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	17. Taking an Interest

"Where are we going?" she asked, when she realized they weren't just walking down the street taking a leisurely stroll. At first she thought they were going back to the library, but they never crossed the street, merely continued right on down the road. He was walking like a man on a mission, a man with a purpose-he was going somewhere specific.

"To my shop," he responded. The pawn shop, the one she'd forgotten about earlier. It wasn't far from her former place of employment, practically across the street from the library. She'd walked by it dozens of times before now but it was strange how she'd never actually been there in all the years since she'd lived here. Well, maybe not strange, she couldn't think of a reason that she would have had to ever go in and buy something, but it was strange how she'd never even really noticed it before.

She took a curious glance through the window as he fumbled to unlock the door. It was anything but modern. Lots of wood, tacky wallpaper, and items lining the wall and floor top to bottom and side to side. Good God there were even things in the rafters! Was that a boat?! She would have said that he was a pack rat, but once he finally unlocked the door and she stepped inside she could see that there was some order to it. Clocks all in one place, pictures in another, one case full of silver, and another filled with jewelry. Busy and cluttered as it was, she could see that it probably looked just like every other pawn shop in the world. Not unique or extraordinary. Just normal. Well...almost normal.

She watched as he made his way across the room and behind the counter, then swung forward a painting and revealed a hidden safe. She moved to try and get a look at just what he was storing in there but she only caught a glimpse of something tan before he quickly placed the money within it and closed it again. Before she could ask questions he'd locked it again and hid it behind the painting once more.

"Isn't that the first place they'd look?" she blurt out. He paused at the sound of her voice then turned to look at her, confused. She pointed to the picture and smiled. "Don't the, um, thief's always look behind the paintings first?" she asked with a little laugh. If she was ever going to rob a house with a hidden safe, that was where she'd look first. That's where the safes on TV were always hidden.

"Well, whoever is brave enough or stupid enough to actually think they can succeed in robbing me soon regrets it. Trust me," he hissed.

She liked the gleam in his eyes at the comment. There was something there, some particular memory that he was recalling and she was excited at the idea of knowing what it was. "Is there a story there?" she asked stepping up to the counter and leaning over it slightly, trying to draw him in.

"Let's just say the last person that was foolish enough to steal from me ended up on the wrong end of my cane," he sneered.

Belle? Was he referring to her? No, it couldn't be. He was only violent when provoked and she imagined that he had the restraint not to hurt his girlfriend. Someone else then?

"How'd it end?" she asked wondering if maybe he would give her some other hint.

He opened his mouth but quickly closed it as he looked her up and down almost suspiciously. She raised her eye brows at him when he finally glanced up at her, still expecting an answer, but she could see the pleasant memory had died with her last words. "He was very lucky someone was there to stop me," he answered, then turned and walked through a curtain behind the counter.

Someone to stop him? Physically? He walked with a cane, so she imagined that if he was using it to beat someone, as he had Keith, then he wouldn't be that hard to over power. But thinking back on how forcefully he'd pummeled Keith, not giving up when the man was out cold, not giving up until he'd gotten his rage out, she suspected that if he really wanted to do something it would be damn near impossible to stop him. Someone might hold him back, but as soon as they let go he'd get right back at it.

So then who had stopped him and how? Belle? That "good side" of him that he'd let slip she always liked? Was she his only weakness? He didn't seem like the kind that would have many weaknesses, just one powerful one. Strong enough to overrule the power that lay within him.

But, then again, she didn't really know him well. When she thought about it, about everything that had happened between the two of them, even when she was in the hospital, there wasn't much that she knew. He had power and money. Belle was his ex-girlfriend, although God only knew what had really happened to her. He'd left town for a short while, but she had no idea where he'd gone or what he'd done. If he'd told her the truth while she was in the hospital, he'd recently almost died, although she had no idea what had happened to him to cause that. She'd spent more time with him than most of the men she'd slept with in Storybrooke and yet she knew next to nothing about him. Things were good between the two of them, they had the ability to make something better, but if she was going to make that happen she had to start by showing a bit more interest.

A squeaking noise from the place he'd disappeared into drew her attention away from her thoughts and she quickly picked up the bag of clothes she'd dropped and followed the same path that he'd taken, walking behind the curtain, and into a large back room. It was just as cluttered as the front was, but in a different less organized way. The items sitting out on the tables looked half broken, like projects he'd started to repair but given up on. Others were too bulky to fit outside, like a large chest of drawers. And…a cot? Which he was moving? That was the cause of the sounds she'd been hearing, he was rearranging the back room. "Hell of a time to redecorate," she commented to herself, wondering what in the world would motivate him to do that.

She hadn't meant for him to hear her but he glanced up at her words. "Sometimes it's just time for a change," he huffed, pulling off the jacket and laying it over the blankets. "And sometimes my work requires me to move things around." She glanced around the room as he continued to move the items into a different formation. Now that she was looking she noted the small wheels on the bottom of the tables and the way that the cabinets hovered only a fraction of an inch off the ground, suggesting hidden wheels for easy movement. It appeared the cot was the only thing that didn't include the round helpers. She slipped the coat he'd just gotten her off of her shoulders and threw it next to his own before walking over to the cot and giving him help with an extra shove. It slammed across the wall, lighter than she would have thought. He thanked her and moved toward one of the cabinets pushing it into the place the bed had been.

"Can I ask you a question Mr. Gold?" she asked taking a seat on the blankets next to their coats.

"You can ask," he commented still busy with his work. She smirked. In other words, she could ask, but he might not answer. It would have been irritating if the mysteriousness didn't trigger her curiosity.

"Where are you from?" She would have loved to ask something more complicated. How he made his money, what exactly he did to make the town so afraid of him, what happened to Belle, why he'd thought she was her in the first place! But based on his comment she figured where he was from and how he'd gotten to Storybrooke was a good place to start.

"Here," he answered simply. Then again, maybe it wouldn't be as easy as she thought.

"Here? Your entire life?"

"For as long as I've been on this earth I've lived here," he added, finally looking over the cabinet and appearing happy with the arrangement.

"Do you have any family?" she tried again. Surely that was an easy one! But still he merely gave a mischievous smile and leaned against one of the large work tables sitting in the room. Clearly he saw something funny in her questioning, but what it was she couldn't begin to guess. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "You remind me of someone."

"Belle?" she questioned hopefully. She held her breath and waited for the answer. She did want information on her doppelgänger but she didn't want to ask it directly, unless he was the one to open that can of worms. That had been one of the goals of her little fishing expedition after all, and now that he had she thought it might have been safe to finally discuss.

But the smile disappeared from his face. That seemed to happen every time her name came up. He shut down. The logical thing to do would be to drop the topic all together, but how was she supposed to find out about her if she did that. Like it or not, that girl was the reason they'd come together in the first place, she felt like it just wasn't something that she could give up. And, frankly, how was he going to ever move on if he refused to acknowledge whatever it was that had happened between the two of them?!

"What happened to her exactly?" she asked in a much more serious tone than she did last night, hoping to get more than just a "you could say she died" out of him.

He sucked in a deep breath and leaned against the table like the conversation was painful to him in some way. "She..." he began, but paused immediately, like he was fighting to hold the words in. "Why are you asking this?" he questioned her instead.

It wasn't an answer, but somehow she wasn't completely disappointed. There was something there behind his eyes that she hadn't seen until just now. It wasn't the powerful man that she'd seen. No, the look belonged to the weak one. She couldn't be sure what the look was entirely, there was a lot more than one emotion to it, but if she'd had to pick one that stood out more than the others, she'd say the look was want. Maybe even desperation. But it was hidden behind distrust. He did want to tell her about Belle. He just didn't trust her.

Yet. He didn't trust her, yet.

She could get her answers, if there was any hidden talent she had it was her ability to use her words and body to get people to do and say things to her that they wouldn't normally do or say. The right words, the right gestures...she'd get him to tell her. Somehow, she'd succeed. "I know nothing about you," she informed him carefully, putting a certain amount of sadness and longing in her voice. "Only what we've experienced over these last few days. I can't help it, I'm curious!" If he bothered looking up he would have seen her give her best impression of a sad pout. But he didn't. He took in her words but stared at the table in front of him like he was conflicted. What on earth was he wrestling with?

She stood up from the bed and strode over to him then boldly reached out to put her hand against his cheek, forcibly turning him to look at her. He gave in at her touch, even closed his eyes and leaned into her hand a bit, as if he was savoring it. "I don't like lies and I don't like secrets," she informed him lightly "I'm an open book Gold, you can ask me anything. I may not be Belle, but if I can give you honesty, then can't I get honesty in return? I'll tell you anything you want! So...can't I at least know you?"

His eyes snapped open at her words, so quickly she nearly jumped at the small action. He looked at her, searched her eyes, with…hope? Hope again? Why did he keep doing that? What had she said that sparked that?

"Perhaps..." he whispered. "Perhaps you just want to learn the monsters weaknesses." He even spoke hopefully with maybe a tad of that desperation she thought she'd seen leaking into his voice.

She smiled, questioning him further wasn't going to get her anywhere right now. What he needed was encouragement, not insulting questions. Questions would come later. She had to earn his trust first. "I'm more interested in the opposite," she said wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. "I want to learn the monsters strengths."

That hopeful look he had broke, and she could have beamed at the sight of the sneering beast peeking through the false mask he bore. Patience, she needed patience to get the answers she sought. She could do that, she wasn't the best at it, admittedly, but she could be if the end of the day held free rent, food, and clothes. Hell, for that, she could throw a little interest into the deal as well.

"I say we spend the night in," she suggested. "Let's go back to the apartment, order something for dinner, and talk. About you...about me...we can get to know each other a little better."

He smiled at her, and surprisingly enough, she felt his hands at her waist, not lifelessly, not because there was nowhere else to put them, but because he'd wanted to. She could feel them tightening there as he stared back at her. Finally! Small as it was, at least it was a reaction of some kind! "I could cook," he suggested. "I may not look it but I'm fairly talented in the kitchen."

"Works for me!" she agreed. She could use a little pampering, especially since she was still recovering from everything she'd endured in the past few weeks. And cooking had never really been on her list ton ten favorite things to do anyway. She'd always much rather make clothes than food. Or better yet... "I could go to The Hole. Buy us a nice bottle of wine."

"I could go to the store, meet you back in your apartment in an hour or so."

She smiled, happier than she'd felt since that fight with her father. Not for dinner. No, that was great and all but it wasn't what made her happy. He'd called the apartment hers. Which was exactly what she wanted to hear. Did this mean he was going to give her the apartment as she'd hoped?!

"I have the perfect dress," she added, trying to hide her happiness and stay calm.

The pair put their jackets on and after collecting her stolen, bagged, clothing and locking up the shop they left arm in arm, walking the short distance down the street to the place he told her he'd parked his car. It just so happened that was outside The Rabbit Hole, convenient enough for her. He put money in her hand, which she happily pocketed, and a set of keys. "One for the library," he told her pointing to one, "and one for the apartment. I'll meet you in an hour or so."

"I'll buy the wine, get changed, and-"

She stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes fell on the car before her. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears and she felt as though she could feel all the color draining from her face. All thoughts fled from her head as she stared at it. Well, all but one thought.

She'd seen that car before.

That was the car! She knew it was! Black exterior. Red interior. And it wasn't just anywhere she'd seen it last.

That was the car from the road! The car she'd cowered behind, confused, as he'd reached out and healed her...

Or so her hallucinations told her...the night she lost her memories.

"Lacey?"

"That..." she choked, her mouth suddenly dry as she tried to remember to breathe. "That's your car?!"

"Yes, of course." Yes. But…no. No! No, it couldn't be! That memory hadn't been real. It wasn't real! It had been a hallucination. Just a hallucination. Her mind had made it up. Nothing that had happened on the road that night had  _really_  happened!

But as she stared at the car her heart hammered in her chest and she found herself questioning what was real and what wasn't.

The car wasn't real. Or it hadn't been. It couldn't have been! Nothing that night had been real.

But how could she hallucinate reality?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to start tearing down the reality that she was living somewhere right? And the more and more that I thought about it the more and more obvious it seemed. The car. The car was the perfect place to start. After all she thinks everything from the moment Belle crossed the town line to the moment she was put to sleep in the hospital for the first time, way back in MS&U is a hallucination. So in order to show that, naturally the way to break it, would be to show her that she's currently living a hallucination and that was reality. The car seemed like a good place to start with that.
> 
> Oh, and in answer to the riddle I left you with in the last chapter: Ledershue is The Old Woman in the Shoe. Hints were obviously her many children that she was raising alone and then Ledershue in German is actually Leather Shoe so...I hope you enjoyed that little bit of my own creation. Peace and Happy Reading!


	18. Logical Explanations

"Lacey are you alright?"

The feel of his hand at her elbow made her jump and broke her focus on the car in front of her. Her narrow gaze finally managed to widen and take in the world around her again. Car. Outside. Rabbit Hole. Gold.

Car. Real car.

She glanced quickly between him and the car, trying to force her brain to work properly again. "Y-y-yes. Yes, I'm fine."

Fine-freaked out, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.

That wasn't even the half of it this time.

She had to get away from here. She had to sort out her thoughts, get a handle on things again.

"Yes, I'm, uh...I'm just going to go buy the wine. I'll, uh...I'll see you in an hour." Somehow she managed to tear her eyes away from the car, give him a quick peck of a kiss, and without another word went straight for the entrance to the Rabbit Hole, her safe place, her hiding spot. Everything was perfect here. Perfectly normal. Perfectly understandable. Perfectly…without a car that she thought she'd dreamt up but turned out to really exist.

Her stomach knotted and she went right for the bar. To her surprise, the crowd parted way for her, just as they had for her and Gold last night. She tried to focus on the people. On the way they were staring at her. On the way they now looked at her with fear just as they had him. Last night she would have been ecstatic about that, but now, the image of that car, and the hallucination in her mind of crawling away from him, a bumper in her face as she cried and tried to figure out where she was and what was going on in her head, kept interrupting and playing in her mind over and over and over again...she had to get that image out of her mind!

She slammed the money he'd given her down onto the counter and looked at the barman. "I need a shot," she stated. "A shot, a bottle of wine, and a bottle of the strongest whiskey you have."

"Any particular kind of wine or-"

"Just whatever I can get for this!" she yelled pushing the money at him! "And hurry up with that damn shot!" The bartender nodded and rushed off to get her what she had requested.

She would have loved to sit there and drown out the terrible images in her mind, but that wasn't going to explain why they were there. And besides, she was closer than she could ever remember being to having a mental break down and she really wasn't prepared for anyone to witness that. Not if they were finally looking at her like she could bring them all down with a single word to Mr. Gold. That would certainly put a damper on things.

She took the shot and ordered another. The bartender gave her the bottles she'd requested and took the money off the counter, then she did her final shot and practically ran across the street to the library. She didn't realized how bad she was shaking until she fumbled the keys in the lock, tripped going up the stairs, and nearly dropped the wine as she opened the door to the little apartment. She didn't waste time when she arrived. She set the bottles down on the counter, found the wine she'd opened when she woke up and took a long swallow from it. Multiple long swallows.

After a moment she stood, hunched over the counter, her nails hanging onto the edge so tight it made her joints ache. "I am not crazy," she whispered to herself feverishly. "I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy and I'm not talking to myself, I'm just going to keep saying those words until I believe them!" she shouted slamming her fists down suddenly onto the counter.

Normalcy. She needed normalcy. She took a deep breath, straightened up, grabbed the wine bottle, because there was no way she was doing anything without it, and went into the bedroom. She held up the green dress that she'd designed before they'd left that morning. It didn't comfort her. She put it on, hoping the simple task would distract her, but it failed. Her mind was on autopilot the entire time.

How could she hallucinate something that was real?! The people at the hospital had told her, had sworn up and down, that she was crazy that she'd been hit by the car and everything she'd seen had been a lie. It was a reasonable, logical explanation!

But it didn't explain how she'd imagined Mr. Gold or, even more specifically, Gold's car perfectly if she'd only been hallucinating.

No. That wasn't logical!

What was?

Occam's Razor; the simplest explanation was usually the most likely. But no. That couldn't have been it either. It couldn't. She refused to believe it! Because the simplest explanation was that she hadn't hallucinated or dreamt it up. The most logical solution was that he had been there that night, that she'd really seen what she thought she'd seen. But if she allowed herself to believe that, then she had to wonder if the rest of her so called "hallucinations" were true. Everything. The ride to the hospital, her confused attempts to scramble away from him, the ball of fire she'd seen him holding in his hand, and the way he'd taken away the pain in her shoulder.

That was it! There was her proof. She could figure it out right here and right now. She stormed into the bathroom, untied the green knot the dress formed at the nape of her neck and lowered the strap to cleanly examine her shoulder.

Nothing.

No scab. No scar. Nothing to suggest that she'd been hurt in any way. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. She was an adult! And she was far too old to believe in silly things like magic. There was no such thing.

Right?

No! She wasn't going back to this. To this nonsense that had repeatedly gotten her into trouble in the hospital. She retied the dress, went back into the bedroom, and took another swig from the bottle of wine. Her head was starting to hurt. She needed a distraction, something she could really sink her teeth into. The solution was easy and she started going through Belle's closet and drawers without a thought. There had to be something she could do quickly and easily that could keep her hands busy. She wasn't looking to design anything, she didn't have the focus for that at the moment, but she could fix a hem, repair a tear, something small, something-

Something like rip a lining out of a night gown.

Her hands dove into a drawer before her and pulled out something she hadn't expected to find in this girls closet. Lingerie. And not just any kind of lingerie. The good stuff. The sexy kind. It was so unlike the rest of the apartment it seemed to stand out like a sore thumb. But then again. It wasn't exactly unlike what she'd seen. It was sexy, sure, in a short low cut, lacy kind of way. But the lining would still hide everything. She examined the piece. The outer layer was nothing but lace, but it was still strong enough to hold itself together. If she took out the lining, left only the lace, it would leave nothing to the imagination, it would be sheer. And it would be much more her, much more…well, lacy. And if tonight went like she'd wanted last night to go, it would be a good thing to have on hand, not to mention the perfect project to keep her hands working and her thoughts from straying back to...no! No, she wasn't going to think about it! She couldn't, she didn't want to!

She carried the piece out to the desk she'd set up for her work area, sat down and located the scissors. A seam ripper would have been better. She'd be sure to get one tomorrow, but for now, scissors would work. She started at the top, ripping the thread and tearing lace from cloth as she worked, delicately enough so she wouldn't break the fabric.

This was better. This was much more her. Sitting at a sewing machine, in a dress she'd designed and made, working on fabric in her hand. Maybe it was the alcohol she'd just consumed, but if it was she didn't care, she was feeling much calmer, much better in her element. This was better than falling to pieces in the bedroom over a car. It was sobering. Of course there was no such thing as magic! Of course she hadn't seen what she'd thought she'd seen! That entire night was unreliable and she needed to focus on what  _was_  reliable: the holes in the story.

She remembered walking down that road. She'd been alone except for the one car that had been coming up behind her. That was before she'd hit her head. That was reliable. It was what followed that made no sense. If she'd been walking on the side of the road then why was her first "memory" of being in the middle of it? And really, who stood in the middle of a road? She'd been alone, so why were their people in her "memory"? There was Gold who she thought had caught her and the Man-in-Black yelling at him. And finally, the final damning piece of evidence, if she'd been hit by a car and hit her head, then why would her "memory" say that it wasn't her head that was hurt but her shoulder?

Because none of it was true!

Because her mind had needed to fill that time in with something and that was what it had come up with. The two women and the man, the ones that had driven her to the hospital, she'd never seen them before. They were clearly just figments of her imagination. The man-in-black, the one that was yelling at Gold, well if he had been real then where was he? From the clothes that she remembered he didn't even look right! He'd looked like he just stepped out of a movie. And he seemed to have hated Gold enough that she doubted he would have been silent this long.

As for Gold, she could see why her mind would make that up. She would have thought she'd had the memories from the very beginning, but they must have formed after she'd met him. He'd awoken her by side, kissing her, mistaking her right from the beginning for Belle. Obviously her mind had needed a reason to link all these events together and had come up with the scenario to explain it all away, to calm her when she was stressed. And as for the timeline, well...she'd been on so many drugs then that it was hard to keep all of her days straight, she could have made those memories up days after the accident and never known! That was it! All of it! It was all easily explainable.

Except for the car...

How could she hallucinate reality?

Chance. Coincidence. Twist of Fate!

He'd parked his car outside the Rabbit Hole, she'd seen it herself! She'd probably just walked past it and her mind had used it without ever knowing it was his. That was perfectly logical. Improbable didn't always mean impossible. And if she knew anything about betting, it was that no matter how slim the probability there was always a chance. Yes, that was it! It had to be! It had to be if only because she needed some explanation. She'd believe it because she had to.

She held the now lace slip up in front of her. Perfect. It would be scratchy against bare skin, but fortunately she wasn't planning on sleeping in it. Hell, if she got to put it on, she wasn't even planning on wearing it for that long. As if her thoughts had summoned him, she heard the door knob turn and she popped up with the lace and silk to toss them in the bedroom before he could see. If things went well tonight, it would be a surprise.

"Lacey? What are you doing?" he asked, timidly stepping into the apartment and looking her up and down suspiciously. This was the one time that she really couldn't blame him. Especially not after she'd freaked out on him like that.

"Oh, just, just working on something for later. Nothing special..." she prattled on.

Still his look of concern didn't give way. "Are you alright?" he asked. "You seemed startled."

"What?" she feigned, as if she had no idea what he was talking about, but it was pretty stupid to pretend like she didn't know what he was talking about and lying came naturally to her. But why lie? He wasn't her father, she wouldn't get in trouble! "Oh that! Yeah, I just, uh..." she swallowed and tried to collect her thoughts. She hadn't thought about what she would tell him, but the last thing she was going to say was "you're car gave me panic attack and made me think I was going crazy". She was certain that she was finally getting him right where she wanted him, right where she wanted to be, the last thing she needed was for him to think she was insane. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for help, for an excuse, and finally landed on the whiskey and wine she'd left on the counter. "I just needed a drink," she shrugged away. It wasn't a lie, she had needed a drink after that...multiple drinks.

"So...what's for dinner?" she smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter, I know, but I thought it was important to keep it here and see how these barriers are breaking down in her mind and starting to feel real and not right all at the same time. We know that she has her memories from that night and her time in the hospital, we just have to get her to access them and believe in what she doesn't.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	19. Better Than Nothing

Simplicity seemed to be the key that night, much to her surprise.

Chicken was for dinner, with white rice, broccoli, and of course the wine that she'd bought. And he hadn't lied to her either! He really was a good cook, unlike herself, although that had never stopped her father from insisting she do it after her mother had died. Tonight her talents were better used elsewhere in setting the mood. She'd found some candles in a drawer and lit them as she placed out plates and wine. There was no dining room, so they ate at the little breakfast nook. But, if she was honest, it was about the only part of the night that wasn't perfect. And that surprised her more than anything.

They talked. Really talked! She couldn't remember the last time that she'd had a conversation with a man that didn't include fighting or seducing, and she was amazed once more to find just how much she liked it. She asked him how he'd gotten into the pawn business. He told her that he just fell into it. He loved dealing, he loved collecting, and he loved money. It was the natural career choice for someone like him. She asked if it was true, that he really did own the town. It was. When she questioned how he'd managed that he simply told her that he'd made a good deal once upon a time.

It was impressive. An entire town over one deal! Must have been a hell of a deal. "I hope the person you dealt with got something good out of it."

He nodded and took another sip of wine. "It would depend on who you asked and when."

He was also a good storyteller. She had to admit that she hadn't expected that, hadn't expected to like that quality in a man, but he told her tale after tale of castles and knights, of ogres and spells, even evil queens and bandit princesses. The tales seemed familiar, like something she'd heard in her school days, but varied from the classics too much for him to be copying off of the originals. They smiled when it was appropriate, sighed when the story called for it, and once she even caught herself laughing hysterically at the thought of a woman thinking that a bit of lightning could bring back her boyfriend.

It was most unlike any date that she'd been on before. But then again, when she really thought about it, she couldn't remember ever being on one. Oh, she was sure she had! She just couldn't think of any right now. Even then, compared to this, she wasn't quite sure she'd call what she'd been on in the past a date. She spent time with men, but there was never much information exchanged between the pool table and the bedroom, information had always been irrelevant, so it surprised her when he asked about her life. And even more so when he seemed genuinely interested.

He wanted to know everything. Where she was from, where she'd grown up, who were her parents, did she have siblings, where had she gone to school, and what she remembered about coming to Storybrooke. For a moment she allowed herself to forget that the point of this endeavor was to learn about him, to get him to trust her, and let herself talk. She told him everything that she could remember, even the bit she was certain of but couldn't find the memories for. He listened. He listened well, actually. He remained quiet for the most part, but prompted her when something or other piqued his interest.

After what seemed like hours they arrived at the present. "What do you remember before the hospital?" he questioned. "How do you think you ended up there?" She sighed, took an extra swallow of her wine for good measure and began to spin the tale. It didn't need too much explanation at this point, she'd already told him of her parents and her goals. All she needed to do was tell him about the fight and what she'd done.

"He told me I should go, so I left," she concluded. "No one decides my fate but me," she muttered to herself, emptying her glass for the third time. She reached forward for the bottle and suddenly found herself immersed in darkness. They'd burned the candles down and they'd gone out. A small giggle escaped her lips. God, she'd actually giggled! How drunk was she? She really hoped she could build her tolerance up again quickly because giggling like a pre-teen was irritating even to her. "I, uh, think the candles are trying to tell us something," she joked expertly pouring herself another glassful in the dark.

He nodded and popped out of the chair with more spring than she thought he had. "I'll do the dishes," he muttered.

"Mmm!" she protested swallowing the liquid. "No, no, no, you cooked, I'll clean."

"It's not a problem."

"No but it's fair. And if there is anything that I am, it's fair!" She snatched the plates away from him and moved them over to the sink, turning on the water and washing them off like she might have if she was still living at home. Then she'd been the cook and the maid, but she really did prefer one over the other instead of both. She wished her father would have helped with one or the other, as she'd said, in her mind, that would have been fair. There was no way that she would inflict something like that on someone else. Not even once.

He appeared suddenly at her elbow and disposed of his wine glass and the pans he'd used on the stove. Why they hadn't turned the light on she didn't know, but she honestly hadn't even noticed until this moment, when she began to feel crowded and couldn't quite get his face into focus. "Would you like help?" he asked, his voice deep and almost lyrical in her stupor.

"I, uh, I do know how to do the dishes," she commented.

"You don't have to do anything," he muttered. It was strange, he said it like he had repeated the phrase a million times to her and was bored with it. It was just one more thing to think of. One more thing that didn't make any sense to her. But why did things always need to make sense? Why couldn't she just be happy with nonsense for one night. If someone had told her when she left the hospital yesterday that she would be spending a happy evening with Mr. Gold she would have laughed. Now?! Well, the future wasn't always what it seemed, she supposed, this was only proof of that. Still it was surprising, but she'd had a good time tonight. She wasn't one for romancing, and candlelight, and talking, it just wasn't her! But she'd enjoyed herself with him tonight, and now that she had tried something new she found that she liked it, could get used to it even! And suddenly she realized, he was right. She really didn't want to do dishes. She wanted to do something much more suiting of a night like tonight, something much more primal.

She shut off the water and turned away from the sink. "But I can think of something else I'd rather do," she explained drawing his attention back to her.

"What's that?" he asked.

Sometimes words were really ineffective. Actions rarely were. So she pounced. She placed her hands against his cheeks, drew his mouth against her own, and moved against him. For a moment it was just as dead and lifeless as all the other kisses had been, but then, remarkably, she felt his hands at her waist and, even better, she felt him suddenly kiss her in return.

Finally! It had taken forever, two whole days before she'd finally gotten him to actively kiss her, to hold her against him, to act like he wanted more, and not just like he was participating because there was no other option. Truth be told, he wasn't half bad at this when he was actually trying. She suddenly felt very optimistic about the rest of their evening. The night was ahead of them, and if she could get her heart to beat, her lungs to gasp for air, and her mind to let go of the world around them, maybe the details would finally blur the way she'd always thought they should during intense moments but never really had for her and other paramours.

She reached up and pulled him down to her farther, smiling against his mouth, and wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt his hand leave the small of her back and begin to travel down toward-

"No," with a sudden jerk he pulled away, at least as far away as he could considering they still held each other in a vise like grip. "No," he whispered again, "no, I can't."

"Trust me, we can," she muttered, trying not to be irritated. She waited a moment then reached back up to kiss him again. He was resistant at first, but after a moment he finally sighed into her mouth and turned himself over to her again. But when she reached for the knot at his tie, he pulled away again and this time grabbed her hands to prevent her from pulling like she had last time.

"I can't," he repeated sternly.

Seriously? The stubborn man really wasn't playing hard to get?! The tone he'd used told her that he'd made up his mind. He was dead serious. "Is this a religious thing?" she asked, not really sure if she wanted the answer to be yes or no. If it was "yes" then she may as well abandoned the situation, that kind of thing wasn't going to fly for her. But if it was "no" then that left only one other reason that she could identify, and she didn't like it.

"No, no, no," he answered "I-I-I'm just…tired," he finished. But the stuttering was a dead giveaway. He was unsure; he'd made that excuse up on the spot. He was unmovable. Refusing to give into her and refusing to give her the real reason he was so reluctant to give into her. What was the good of a relationship like this if she couldn't get him to treat her any better than an ex?! He stared at her, nervously examining her face like he wished that he could read her thoughts. He wouldn't have liked them if he could. Hell she didn't like them! If there was one emotion that she did not tolerate, it was jealousy. It was either her on his mind or no one!

She stepped away from him, and tried to get a handle on the strange feeling she'd never had before. "Is it Belle?" she asked in an unimpressed voice. He didn't answer. He wouldn't even try to lie to her. Not that she needed the answer, lie or not. The Belle excuse was getting old. Sure, if he'd loved her then he deserved time to grieve the loss, whether she died or she moved away or flew off the cook-coo nest for all she cared, but there was a time for grief and a time to move on. She'd learned that lesson well. And when another opportunity, as good as she was, presented itself, then the time to move on had arrived.

"She's gone, Gold!" she stated maybe a little too strongly. "She's gone and she's not coming back! You need to accept that if you ever expect to move on! Are you really going to let some ridiculous past haunt your present?!"

Something about her words made his eyes widen, made him do a double take as he looked at her. Was she getting to him? Was he seeing the logic of her statements? It seemed too easy to her…but she hadn't exactly known him long and she'd never really played the "girlfriend" role before. Hell, she'd never had to try this hard to convince someone to sleep with her! They always just fell into bed! So it was no wonder she was so bad at this! But could that be it? Had she won? Was he giving into her? She took an experimental step forward. He didn't move, but he looked suddenly upset, like she was torturing him somehow. Or maybe just breaking him down. She moved back to the place she'd been, winding her arms back around his neck and running her fingers through the ends of his hair.

"She's gone," she whispered softly, "and I'm here. So I'm going to go into the other room, put on something a little more comfortable, and we'll spend the night focusing on 'moving on.' Okay?" He didn't answer her. Only searched her eyes for something unknown, but she couldn't understand if he found it or not. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. "Okay," she gave him a quick peck and pulled away from him to walk back to the bedroom. "Just sit down, make yourself comfortable, and I'll be out in a moment," she instructed over her shoulder.

If this was a normal situation she would have left him to sit and stew, to build up the tension, to make him want her more by the time she got back, but she suspected Gold was in the middle of a terrible battle, and leaving him alone with his thoughts for too long wouldn't work in her favor. Something in him, the strong man that she'd seen occasional glimpses of, wanted her. She could feel it, she knew it! But the weaker version, the one that was attached to Belle, was fighting her. If only she could get him to give in then she knew she might stop the war, that Gold would come to his senses and give up the silly hope that his ex would come back to him.

So when she went into the room, she was glad that she'd already found the night gowns Belle had left and torn out the lining on one. All she had to do was slip the lace over her skin, untie her hair, and brush her teeth. She pulled the covers on the bed back, so he wouldn't be distracted by anything, and turned the lights out. With a final glance in the mirror, she strolled out into the room, intending to make him speechless, located Gold…and stopped.

He was slumped against the armchair in the corner, his jacket and vest were missing, the top couple of buttons on his shirt were open at his throat, and the knot of his tie was lose as if he'd attempted to pull it free to relieve anxiety. She would have been happy about all that…if only his eyes weren't closed! If only his head wasn't leaning against the fist perched upon the arm of the chair! If only his chest wasn't rising and falling with the rhythmic pattern of deep sleep!

She didn't know what to do. She could wake him, certainly she could, but for whatever reason she just didn't feel like it. She was angry. Furiously angry. He'd fallen asleep?! Seriously?! What the hell kind of man fell asleep when there was a beautiful woman only yards away, half naked, ready to take him to bed?! The answer was simple, irritating, and pathetically insulting. What kind of man did that? One who genuinely wasn't interested. She should never have gone into the bedroom, she should have just taken him with her instead of risking the little time she'd taken. Clearly in that time span the weaker, less powerful man had won out, and the powerful soul that dwelled somewhere within slept again. Literally.

Without a second thought she turned on her heel and stomped back to the bedroom, not caring if the noise woke him or not. If he startled he could watch her walk away while he figured out what had upset her. Served him right! She sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the lace off of her in a huff. Screw finding decent PJ's, underwear would be just fine. If he happened to see, then he'd only see what he'd missed. She lay back in the bed, pulled the covers up over her chest and stared into the shadowy depths of the ceiling above.

This could have been perfect. It should have been perfect, like two puzzle pieces or the yin and yang. A girl: homeless, jobless, in desperate need of resources, and with nothing but her company to offer. A man: a spare home, money galore, endless resources, and desperately lonely! They each had what the other wanted, so it should have been perfect match. But it was like the more she tried to force the pieces together the more she realized that they weren't perfectly designed, they only appeared so.

She rolled over, and watched the moonlight fall against the floor. It was early. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to bed before midnight. If she strained her ears she thought she could hear distant laughing and music, maybe from the Rabbit Hole? She could go. He was asleep, she could just sneak out as she had plenty of times in her life and he'd never know she'd left until he awoke. But, somehow, that seemed like it would be a step in the wrong direction. Irritating as it was to admit, she reminded herself that this endeavor wasn't a complete failure. She was here. She was warm. She had clothes, and food, and a bed. She just didn't have him. It was still better than what she'd had yesterday morning, it was better than nothing. But she had to wonder, if he really wasn't interested, even if it was only slight disinterest, how long could this really last?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, before you hate me just give me a moment to explain. This chapter exists to explain a lot of things down the road. For one, I think it keeps with Gold's character and shows his progression in losing hope. I promised you before that they weren't going to sleep together in this fiction, but I also told you that I believed, given enough time, yes Gold would have probably eventually settled for Lacey. Here you can see that. He's starting to get to that point where he wants to give in and starts to try to accept it and give in...but then can't go through with it. He's still not ready to move on. And what I love most about this particular night is that it gives Gold reason for his sudden behavior the next day. He's got to know that the whole refusing Lacey and then going to sleep is going to piss her off but he can't let her leave because he doesn't want Lacey to do something that will haunt Belle if she can be saved. So...what does he do the next morning...puts on a show of power to make her happy. Does that make sense? I hope it makes sense because it makes sense to me!
> 
> Thank you StorybrookeTales for your comments on the last chapter and for loving it even if it is filler. I'm so happy that you see the point of the chapters that I always worry are going to be boring because they are mental chapters and not action chapters! Thanks for your kind words! Peace and Happy Reading!


	20. The Man and the Beast

The smell of coffee woke her the next morning and she was conscious of one thing immediately: she'd dreamt of those hallucinations again. And dammit, it seemed even in sleep they gave her a headache! Then again maybe it wasn't them, maybe it was everything else that had happened: the alcohol, the meal, the devastation of rejection...

The terrible reminder of what had happened last night made her open her eyes and take in her surroundings. The sun was up, but only just barely, not that she would have seen it anyway, the sky outside was predicting a dreary uneventful day. She was still alone in the room she'd gone to sleep in, but the closet was open and the bathroom door was cracked. She could see through the threshold of the bedroom into the kitchen to where he was sitting at that nook just has he had been yesterday morning. He'd showered already and put on a new suit, and he'd done so without disturbing her, without paying her a moment's notice...also just as he had yesterday.

She sat up slowly, tugging the sheet up around her chest and holding her hand to her head as she went. Last night, she thought they may have actually been having a good time, talking, laughing, exchanging stories... She thought they may even have been forming a real connection, which was a first for her but it had been nice and she'd liked it. But what she thought didn't matter because it was all a lie in the end. He obviously wasn't nearly as interested in her as he was in his Belle. And he clearly wasn't ready to move on to someone new. If he had been then he would have taken her up on her offer in a heartbeat last night and she would have awoke this morning feeling spent, but maybe something else too. Something different, something she'd never felt before. She may even have been happy and she might have felt...

Bloody hell what was the matter with her?! This! Thoughts like that?! That was why she didn't play the girlfriend role! Random guys, one right after another, night after night was much safer. She didn't risk feeling anything, or getting her hopes up, and she certainly didn't risk waking up alone in bed the next morning thinking hormonal teenage school girl thoughts and feeling like a fool! But then again...that kind of life didn't promise her money, food, and shelter. And power.

Though she'd been distracted she remembered how the regulars at the Rabbit Hole had looked at her last night. With fear. Clearly the town was talking about who she'd spent the night with, and her day too, for that matter. Kimberly, or Drizella, whatever the hell her name was, always was one for gossip. She couldn't help but wonder if the incident at Modern Fashions had gotten out somehow. That would be a simple explanation for their fear of her, even if it was just her association with him. Now if only she could find a simple explanation for the car...

No! No, she wasn't going to think about that today. She already had a headache, not to mention she was up earlier than any sane human being should be and spending far too much time dwelling on things she shouldn't. That damn car was one less thing she needed to worry about! With that thought she swung her legs over the bed and reached for the robe she'd used yesterday. There was no chance she was putting the lace nightie on now. Not after what happened last night.

He was sitting at the breakfast nook again, reading, just as he had been yesterday morning. Somehow, it wouldn't surprise her to find he lived his life by a strict schedule. He seemed like someone who would enjoy the dull predictability of a routine.

"That book again," she commented leaning against the threshold, arms crossed over her chest, he glanced up at her over orange juice and what looked like a bagel. "What is it?" she asked coolly moving around him to grab a mug and coffee.

"Just something lying around," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nothing. Just like that? They were back to nothing? Cryptic answers and evasion?! Just like last night, she was done with it. She set her mug down maybe a little too forcefully, turned, and boldly grabbed the book out of his grasp.  _La Belle et La Bete._ French. Unlike him, apparently, she didn't speak French but she was smart enough to know the basics. "La" was "the", "et" was "and", and "Belle" was "beauty". It wasn't exactly hard to fill in the rest of the blanks from there. The Beauty and the Beast. Figured Belle would have a book like this in her apartment.

"Sounds like your Belle would enjoy the idea of turning a monster back into a man." There was silence between them for a moment as he appeared to do a double take at her words.

"Last night..." he muttered, using that same quiet and timid voice. They were back to that then, to the gentle old man who didn't know what to say or do around her. Damn, one night of what she thought was a step forward, for both of them, turned out to be two steps back. She'd learned her lesson, she wouldn't do that again. There was something to be said for rebellion. And being cold and distant was just one part of it.

"It's fine," she said sternly, taking a long drink of her coffee and digging for a bagel of her own.

"I did say I was tired," he responded.

"You did." Yes, she did recall that, but she would have thought that what they were doing would have been exciting enough to banish that thought from his mind.

"Let me make it up to you." Now there was a thought that caught her attention. Being made up too? What might that entail?

"How?" she asked retrieving the cream cheese and, somehow, managing to keep the sound of curiosity in her voice to a minimum, and her irritation still clear on the surface. No reason to let him think he was off the hook just yet.

"I need to go to the shop today. There are things that I need to do that I cannot ignore any more and I was hoping you could come with me. There are several items I believe you'll be interested in. You can have anything you like."

The promise of jewelry or clothes wasn't exactly the kind of "making up" she'd been hoping for. But then again it was still jewelry or clothes, and it was something she could make use of at least. Hell, if he wasn't the owner of the pawn shop, she would have picked the most expensive thing, pawned it, and gone to New York today! But as it was maybe she could trade something like that just over the town line. He'd never know, he probably wouldn't even care if she left...not as he did Belle.

"Okay," she agreed, still keeping her cold demeanor. "Just give me a few minutes to get changed?"

"Of course," he smiled awkwardly.

She meant to simply pick up her coffee, but when she reached down her eyes fell upon the book that she'd pulled away from him. She tried to ignore it, but that flame of jealousy she'd felt a couple of times for a woman she'd never met flared within her. She'd go with him, but she wanted to make one thing abundantly clear first. She leaned against the counter and cast him glances that should have told any normal man just how angry she was, but with him she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't pick up on it. "Something you should know about me Mr. Gold: fairy tales are great, but men, even the strongest of them, have limits, heroes have rules; monsters don't, they are the ones truly capable of being unlimited. Belle may have liked the gentleman, but I am not her... Give me the villain any day."

Before he had the chance to respond she went to the bathroom and, despite the early hour, she got ready for the day. She showered, did her hair and make-up, and pulled the black dress she'd designed yesterday out of the closet. It was a little racy for Mr. Gold's standards, or even just for a day sitting inside a pawn shop, but, frankly, she didn't care this morning. She hadn't done laundry last night, she really needed to buy herself some more underwear. Screw it! She'd cut the straps off the bra she had and go commando for the rest of the day, she'd wear panty hose, it would be fine. She topped it off with a pink jacket she found, the blue shoes she'd bought, and even found a bottle of blue nail polish to change the chipped maroon she'd been wearing since before she could remember. Before they left the apartment she grabbed the bottle of whiskey she'd bought at the Hole yesterday. If today was anything like yesterday, or worse, she'd need it. If by chance it was better, well, in that case, a little whiskey never hurt anything.

His shop was close, just across the street, and she was grateful that they could walk there so she didn't have to look at his car again. They didn't touch like they had yesterday. In fact, she crossed her arms over her chest and led the way, not caring that she was stomping away from him like an angry child. As intuitive as he was, a little exaggeration couldn't hurt. She wanted him to know just how furious she was with him over last night. She wanted him to panic, and wallow, to feel guilty and bad all at the same time. Maybe it would push him over the edge, maybe then he'd see what he had instead of what he'd lost. Maybe then he'd-

"Hey!"

She heard hes voice shout at her across the street and her nerves lit up. She turned around to scream back that he couldn't yell for her like a dog, but closed her mouth when she realized he wasn't talking to her! It was a man. A man who was standing by a car next to the Rabbit Hole. Before she knew what to do or what was going on, he'd abandoned his track to the shop, strode across the street to the man, grabbed him by the lapels, and tossed him to the ground. He swung his cane down against the man's ribs and he let out a howl of pain. Her jaw dropped as she watched the scene play out and she was vaguely aware of the bottle of whiskey slipping from her hand and shattering on the sidewalk as she hurried over to him with a smile forming on her lips.

Just when she thought he couldn't be as interesting as she wanted him to be, he surprised her. What had the man done? What could have prompted this response? Whatever it was, the beast was fighting for freedom, and it was far more intriguing than the grudge she was holding against him for last night. Not to mention it was fun. She really did need to learn what it was that brought out this side of him. The girl on the arm of the most powerful man in town was the safe role to play, unlike that of the devoted girlfriend.

"Disrespect is a terrible flaw, Doctor!" Gold said through gritted teeth.

"Disrespect? Gold! Hey! Ah!" he yelled as the cane came down on him again. Gold picked up his foot and placed it over the man's throat, he did my best to push it away but it appeared Gold was stronger that he looked.

"When Disrespect is the crime respect must be the price!" Gold moved his shoe so the doctor could breathe. "Kiss my boot!" he ordered, his foot hovering over the man's face.

"Wait, wait, wait!" the doctor begged, staring up at the shiny black shoe in from of him.

"If you won't kiss it, you're going to taste it anyway!" he insisted.

"Come on Gold!" he plead in a reasoning tone. She couldn't help but smile at how the proud doctor suddenly lay quivering beneath the lowly pawnbroker, looking completely confused and lost. It was the power she'd been searching for, the power that was the only thing keeping her from leaving at the moment. She hadn't lied about what she'd said yesterday-it was terrible attractive. Attractive enough to erase her anger after last night. "I didn't do anything!" the man argued.

"You stared at her," he pointed out, angrily making a gesture in her direction. "And I know how you think. So kiss my boot!" That was it! That was what provoked him! Another man staring at her! Another man kissing her in an ally! If that was what released the beast, jealousy, then she'd have to start dressing like this, and turning heads, more often! Not a difficult task for an aspiring designer. Not when she-

Suddenly he was gone from her side! Pulled away from her with a violent jerk. "What the hell are you doing?!" a strange voice shouted. She looked over her shoulder to see a man she'd never seen in Storybrooke standing there, holding Gold back, pulling him away from the doctor.

"Stand aside, this doesn't concern you!"

"Go! Now! Go!"

The pair continued to struggle and as they did the doctor took the opportunity to get up s the stranger said. In his favor, he didn't run away, but he certainly didn't hang around to see how things would turn out for his rescuer.

"Let go of me, son!"

Her attention snapped from the fleeing doctor back to the men before her at that word. The man had released him and they stood facing off. It was the first time she'd seen anyone, besides her, of course, stand up to him without walking away with a cane imprint somewhere on their body. Son?! He meant that in a metaphorical, cute, turn of phrase kind of way. Right?! She examined the stranger before her. He couldn't be his son. He looked to be about her age! Gold was older than her, she could see that clearly, but he wasn't  _that_  old! Besides, the man bore almost no physical resemblance to him, either. No, surely they weren't related. Surely he didn't have a son, if he did he would have mentioned it last night! Wouldn't he?

"I'm surprised you didn't turn him into a snail," the man remarked darkly, like he was remembering something or making a joke of some kind.

It made no sense to her, but she found herself laughing at the remark anyway. It was better than standing there and trying to debate whether the men were parent and child, feeling like she'd just become invisible. Silence wouldn't give her answers! "A snail?" she asked.

She suddenly had a strange feeling. That same remarkable curiosity that began brewing the moment that she'd seen his car yesterday returned all at once. It made no sense, none whatsoever, but it was persistent. Why did she have the feeling that there was something she was missing, something he was hiding from her? And why did she suddenly feel like it wasn't just him? Like there was something going on in this town and she was the only one that didn't know it?

"What're you-what're you talking about?"

"Lacey," Gold interrupted quickly. "Why don't you go and wait for me in the shop," he suggested handing her the keys. "I'll be along shortly."

Seriously? Was he really dismissing her? Just like that? Was he really ordering her around again, like he had when she got out of the hospital?! Oh, there was no way this was going to fly! No one ordered her to say or do anything! She didn't belong to anyone, she wasn't a child, and she certainly couldn't be controlled!

But as she glanced up at the man that had stopped him she felt a flare of curiosity race through her, replacing her anger. She wanted to stay and hear what they had to say to one another, she wanted an explanation! She wanted to scream at him that whatever the pair of them had to say on a public street, they could say in front of her! But...

If they were going to be cryptic, if she was going to feel more of that strange suspicion, she'd rather not be here. Oh, they were going to have a conversation alright, probably a very loud argument, about how he couldn't treat her like he'd just treated the doctor, like he was treating her now! But she was smart enough to know this was not the time or the place for it. She'd rather shout at him in his shop, where she could try and get the truth out of him without diminishing the power he'd just built up with whoever had been watching.

She was annoyed, but nevertheless, she snatched the keys from him and walked away. She'd get her answers. One way or another, she'd get her answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More downfall for Lacey. And it's not just the car this time, but now Golds age and Neal too! Oh...did we all remember this is where Neal comes back into the picture? In fact this is the first time that he sees Belle. Not exactly the first impression that she would want to make I imagine. That'll haunt her for a bit in fictions to come make no doubt about that. The good news is that Moments will resolve that story line with the pair of them, so while this particular encounter seems grey, believe me when I say that I've got something awesome and wonderful planned for Belle and Neal in the future!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	21. Ignorance is Not Bliss

She stormed off down the street to his store as he continued to talk to the stranger. His son? God, she hoped not. The stranger wasn't exactly a child, he was her age! And Gold didn't look old enough to have a child her age! Maybe it had only been a nickname. After all the pair didn't exactly get along the way a father and son normally would have. Maybe he didn't even know the guys name and instead had just said-

"We're getting married!" she heard the man shout as she arrived at the door. She jumped at the unexpected outburst and look down the road to where she'd left them. Everything from the shout to the way they were standing told her their little talk obviously wasn't going well. And now they were discussing marriage? What on earth led them from "why didn't you turn him into a snail" to "we're getting married"?

"And yet you're still here!" his voice rose and the man, who seemed to be stuck between wanting to walk away and wanting to stay and talk, glanced down the road in her direction. She wasn't sure if he was looking at her or not but she unlocked the door and quickly hurried inside the small quiet space anyway, in an effort to make it look like she wasn't snooping. But once inside, she quickly turned and pressed her ear to the crack in the door, hoping to hear something of the conversation that followed. But it didn't work. She couldn't hear anything they were saying to each other any more. Either they'd lowered their voices or the shop was well insulated.

No matter the reason, she couldn't hear anything inside this building, and she wasn't going to spend her time acting like a teenage girl that needed to eavesdrop on conversations. He was going to tell her what happened! And he would tell her just as soon as he got in that door. They were going to have a talk and she didn't care if he didn't like her tone or didn't understand her anger. She would hang around with him for the apartment and food, she could pretend she wasn't hurt by the fact that he didn't seem to find her desirable so long as he at least pretended that he thought she was and treated her as such. Who needed binding emotions when there was an imaginary status quo to hold up? But she wouldn't tolerate being treated with kid gloves and keeping secrets from her. Girlfriend or not, she deserved respect.

She crossed the room and hunched over the glass case at the far end. God she needed a drink! There was already too much that had happened this morning not to need one. But she'd dropped the bottle of whiskey she'd brought with her for the shop this morning only a few moments ago. She'd love to get something into her before he came in, something to calm her nerves, but that wasn't going to happen. She could search the place while he was having his little spat but she really didn't think he was the kind to keep secret stashes of booze in his place of work like she had (under the counter, right below the cash register). Out of curiosity, and because she was already there, she leaned over the glass case to take a peak, just in case she was wrong and he was more like her than she thought. Nope. Nothing. Not the type. No surprise there. He wasn't the type in a lot of ways, she was coming to find.

Behind her the door to the shop chimed and she took a deep breath, trying to remind herself that even though she was determined to get answers it didn't mean they had to have a shouting match. They could discuss things rationally. And if that didn't work, then, yes, a shouting match would be a great Plan B. And if he got so upset at her that he kicked her out? Well, she'd be no better than when he'd found her in that bar, if she'd gotten this far in only two days she could do it again. But she wanted answers and she wanted them now. If he wouldn't tell her, surely someone in this town would help her understand…especially with her new-found reputation.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

"It's nothing. See anything you like?" he asked. She glanced down into the case she was leaning against. A tea set fit for the Queen of England. Yeah, right, like she'd be interested in something like that.

"Who, uh..." she spun around to face him but wouldn't give him an inch as she stayed against the glass case, "who was that?"

He was quiet for a moment, looking at her in a way that let her know he was aware of the challenge she was presenting him with but wasn't entirely sure how to face it. She hadn't meant for her words to sound cold, but she couldn't help it. She was a designer not an actress, when she was angry she sounded angry.

"Oh, that's no one," he finally explained quickly, averting his eyes to some corner of the ceiling.

Really? He was really going to go with "no one"? People don't shout about "nothing" at "no one" publicly on the street! The least he could have done was given her a name and try to lie about it! Tell her they were fighting over china patterns for all she cared, it was better than at least blatantly keeping information from her.

"No," she corrected, "it's not 'no one!'"

He still refused to meet her gaze, like if he didn't look at her than he didn't have to acknowledge the situation he'd gotten himself into.

"He knew you, Gold. You know him, I can see that I'm not blind! And the least you could do is give me a name!"

"It's just Bae!"

"Bay?" had she heard him right? What the hell kind of name was Bay?

"Neal. I meant Neal," he corrected quickly, looking shocked and nervous that he'd actually said the name. She could see it, his hands flexed uncomfortably on his cane as he went on. "His name is Neal and it's not important, certainly nothing you should be concerned with."

Neal. Well, that was something. And it was an actual name instead of "Bay" although where he'd gotten that name from she had no idea. She almost hoped it was the same place he'd gotten the other frightening word she'd heard him use. "You called him 'son'," she continued on, ignoring his comment that it wasn't her concern. She really didn't care, she wanted to know about it! "Please tell me that is just some sort of euphemism!"

"It's not!" he responded harshly. He'd already been in two fights this morning and it appeared to make him irritated. But the more irritated he was, it seemed the more on edge and unstable he got. Fighting helped it appeared. She'd have to remember that for another time. But as it was, she wasn't sure she would ever remember given the huge ball he's just dropped on her. Just because she'd suspected it didn't mean she wanted to hear it, or expected to. His son? He had a son! He had a son her age? No! Surely there had to be something she'd missed, or he misunderstood! Certainly there was a mistake!

"It's not?" she clarified, daring him to respond. "You're serious? He's your son? Your biological son?! Your flesh and blood!"

He remained quiet, once again looking over her head instead of at her. It was true. If it wasn't he would have denied it! Neal was his son! God, just how old was he?! And why was this the first that she was hearing about it?! They'd gone over so much of his life last night and she'd been positive he hadn't been lying about it. How had the fact that he had a son slip his mind?!

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it wasn't important."

"Having a son seems pretty damn important to me!"

"He's...!" he looked away from her. She didn't particularly like being yelled at but as long as she was doing a little yelling of her own she preferred it to being lied to! "He's been gone for a very long time," he continued in a lower more restrained voice. "He's only recently come back to Storybrooke it's very complicated. Now if you'll excuse me I think I'm the one that needs a drink..." he muttered under his breath as he moved around her like she wasn't there and went straight into the back room.

"That makes two of us," she whispered under her breath as he left. God, he'd practically run from her and her questions. She glanced out the door. She had a clear path, a straight shot, an escape. If she left she didn't think he'd come after her, but then again she'd thought that the other times too. She could find someone else to tell her what was going on: Keith, Tom, someone at the Hole! But as she stared out the window she realized that she didn't want to hear it from anyone else, didn't want to spend the extra time trying to get someone to listen to her or trust her. She wanted him to tell her. He said he wanted to make last night up to her? Well, this was how he was going to pay. Not in gold or jewels, in truths. She was sick of being lied to!

She turned on her heel and walked after him, although marched angrily might have described her gate better. When she wiped the curtain aside, she found him digging through one of the cabinets that he'd moved yesterday. From it he pulled out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Well, she'd been wrong about that suspicion, but that didn't mean she was wrong about this one.

"What's complicated about it?" she asked calmly. But he didn't answer her, merely continued on with his task of pouring drinks. She pulled her jacket off, far more violently than she'd originally meant, and tossed it onto the cot so hard the fabric snapped against the wall. Being lied to was one thing, being ignored was another! "What's so damn complicated about it, Gold?!" she demanded.

"It just is," finally he looked up at her, and for the first time since she'd been with him he looked genuinely irritated with her, like he might have actually been happier if she'd just left. But if he thought that was going to make her drop the subject he was dead wrong. Surprisingly, it only made her want it more!

"I told you I didn't like secrets or lies-"

"I'm afraid you're going to find that I am a man of many mysteries."

"Even to me?" Silence seemed to be his argument of choice. If there was something to say then it was best not to say it at all, that appeared to be his motto! Didn't he see that it only made things worse? It only made her more curious. What was going on? Why was he refusing to tell her? And if he hadn't told her about his son, what else was he hiding from her?! "What else should I know?" she demanded, trying a different method.

"What else do you need to know?"

"What haven't you told me, Gold?!" she questioned angrily. This evasion, this song and dance number, was getting old, she couldn't tolerate it anymore, not when all her suspicions, everything that had happened, over the last few days suddenly seemed to be bubbling to the surface of her mind again despite her efforts to forget them. Why had she hallucinated his car? Where did this strange feeling that he wasn't the only one in this town that was keeping things from her come from? Why had he thought she was his es-girlfriend? And, since she so clearly wasn't, what the hell had happened to Belle that seemingly caused her to vanish out of thin air?! "Having a son is one thing, having a grown son is another. Just how old are you?" she asked, choosing a far safer question to explore first.

"Older than you might think."

"What's that supposed to mean?" More cryptic answers, why was it so damn hard to get a straight answer out of him?! She was looking for a number not a riddle! And he was a man not a woman, what did he have to hide about his age?!

"Nothing," he said with a heavy defeated sigh. "It means nothing."

She stared at him for a while, hoping he'd at least give her something! But his face remained unmoved. She was...speechless. Out of arguments, out of things to say, out of ways to say them!

Nothing.

No one.

A man of many mysteries.

No, he wasn't going to tell her anything. It was one of the tragic truths about most powerful men: they were stubborn as hell when they wanted to be. She should have remembered that. She should have thought about it before she'd let herself get attached to him last night over dinner. Was any of what he'd said to her true? She turned her back on him, jumped up on the table, and after a heavy sigh admitted her own disappointed defeat. She was getting nowhere with all of this. She might not have understood what was going on in this town or the strange chain of events that had taken place since that night she'd stormed out of her father's house, and she didn't understand why he wouldn't answer her questions or why she suddenly had the feeling that the entire town was trying to hide something from her, however paranoid it might have seemed. But she did understand one thing.

"It's not nothing," she muttered stubbornly over her shoulder "it means something."

And she wasn't going to settle until she knew exactly what that something was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things are about to fall apart even more. Two glasses, some whiskey, Lacey up on the table...anyone know what the next chapter will bring for us? It's another pivotal scene for her, probably about as important as the discovery of the car was because it's something along those lines. Any guesses? Well then go on over to the next chapter and check it out!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	22. Honest Answers

It meant something.

If it really was "nothing" then he would have just told her. He would have told her about his son. He would have told her how old he was. She would have confessed that she felt there was something going on in town and he would have told her everything was fine and that she was being paranoid.

But he didn't do that. He didn't confirm anything, but he also wasn't flat out deny anything either, which could only mean one thing in her book: it meant something!

He set the bottle of whiskey he'd gotten out next to her and she was tempted to just reach down and take a swig from it. But before she could act he was standing in front of her handing her a glass of the stuff, offering nothing but an empty, hallow, awkward smile. He knew she was upset with him, it was written all over his face, and yet he still wasn't going to give her the answers she craved to make it better?! Hoping it might dull the tension in the room she happily lifted the glass to her lips when she heard the bell on his door chimed again. Before she could even swallow two people stormed into the back-

Her stomach felt like it had just dropped two stories. Suddenly she found herself trying desperately to swallow and not spit the stuff out as she gaped at the pair! Even when she managed to get it down she had to fight not to gasp and stare them in shock!

It was them! The two strangers! The dark haired woman and the blond man. They were...them! The two people she'd seen on the road that night! The hallucinations! Or so she thought...

Her mind whirred and her heart seemed to have leapt into her throat as she looked them over, having just enough sense to hope no one in her room could sense her thoughts and would send her back to the hospital as the pair had originally done that night. Where they real? Could she be going crazy? Was she hallucinating again?! What the hell was happening to her?!

The man was looking at her, giving her strange, questionable glances, like he couldn't believe he was seeing her either. Her pulse raced wildly as she stared at the pair of them and tried to calm herself down to think rationally. But it just didn't seem possible! How was she supposed to be calm about this?! First his car now the strangers! Seeing one was chance but two…

"Sorry to interrupt the party," the man said, looking between the two of them. She didn't say anything. She couldn't. She was still too shocked.

"Well, I certainly don't remember inviting you two," Gold answered. "We're closed."

"Not to us," the woman insisted with confidence.

She looked between Gold and the woman and swallowed nervously. She was curious about what the new standoff would bring, really she was. But she just couldn't seem to find her words or snap her body out of this stupor as she stared at people before her. This was…overwhelming? Remarkable? Improbable? Everything about the pair was dead on from what she had dreamt up that night, just like the car. But hallucinations weren't real! Just a figment of her imagination, so how was this possible? How was any of this possible?!

Suddenly another crazy thought crossed her mind: Hallucinations weren't real…but reality was. Logic dictated that if something was not A then it must be B. If they were not hallucinations then they must have been real. But if they'd been real-

"We need your help," the woman explained, breaking her confused train of thought. "Regina's missing and we think she might be in danger."

Her brain grasped at the conversation, trying to focus on what was happening now rather than that night. It was far safer that way. Regina? Regina as in the Mayor, Regina? The one that had come to visit her in the hospital? The one who had been there when she'd gotten her memories back? If Regina was missing and in danger why come to Gold? What could he do that the police couldn't?

"Just the way I like her," he commented smartly. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"I don't think so," the man corrected sternly. "Whatever your feelings are about Regina, you still owe me a favor."

She stared at him. She'd been curious before, now she was downright interested. And it wasn't about how all of this would play out and how he would respond to the threat the man was imposing. Everything was interesting, and she couldn't get her mind to stay focused on one track at a time. What was going on?! Who were these people? What happened to the Mayor? Why would he hate her enough to want her missing and in danger? How had she dreamt them up? What had the man done for him that he owed her a favor? And why wasn't he fighting back against their commands? Why weren't they as afraid of him as the rest of the town seemed to be?

She waited for the odd comment, for the loud backlash, for the swing of the cane...but none came. Instead, he was silent for a moment, then turned toward her, looking, not irritated, but pained almost. She gave him a questioning look, wondering what was happening, but he wasn't meeting her gaze anymore.

"Lacey, if you'll excuse us, I have some business to attend to," he said offering his hand.

That comment was enough to douse her brain in cold water and anchor her firmly in the present.

He was getting rid of her! Again! Twice in only an hour?! Hadn't dismissing her prompted their latest argument?! Weren't they still technically in the middle of that argument?!

He said nothing more, just kept gazing at her, waiting for her to give into him. She stared open-mouthed at him for a moment, furious that he was kicking her out and giving into their requests. It was just a favor! Favors were friendly agreements, they weren't written in blood. They had been in the middle of something, why was he letting something as little as a favor interrupt them and kick  _her_  out of the room? She'd been invited for the day it was them that had stormed in! Why not kick out...

But as soon as she glanced over at the pair of them again her mouth dried instantly and she felt as though she was dizzy. No, she didn't want to leave, but she also didn't really want to be around whatever the hell they were either. The faster he got to his "business" the faster they would be out of her life again. If they ever had been in the first place.

"Make it quick," she insisted, gripping his hand and jumping down from her perch. He'd better make it quick, because their conversation was nowhere near over. In fact, he was going to have a lot of explaining to do when she got back in the room. She reached for her glass and he placed it in her hand, then managed to give the mysterious pair a glare that told them without words that she wasn't happy about the intrusion, all the while hoping her face didn't show just how shocked and confused she was by their presence, by their very existence in fact.

She slipped behind the curtain, intending to mill around behind the counter and get control over her hazy thoughts and clouded emotions as they discussed "business", but as she heard the sound of swaying fabric behind her, she was suddenly struck with an idea. Why wait for answers he may or may not give her? They had something to discuss, they'd come into her turf, and all that separated them was a flimsy curtain! She smirked to herself as she stood behind his counter, pretending to look at the tea set again for appearance sake, just in case one of them stormed out of the room in a huff, but she tuned her ears to the conversation behind that veil. She had no idea if what they were going to talk about would give her a clue about what was going on, but certainly he wouldn't have pushed her out if it was "nothing" as he claimed so much was. If nothing came of it than the shock of feeling crazy then that was that, but maybe, if she listened carefully, she could find one thing to hold over his head and force his hand! The strangers certainly had...

"I'm sure I can whip up something to find Regina," he announced so loudly she wondered for a second if he'd meant for her to hear the conversation. Whip up? What? A lackey? He had money, and money could buy just about everything. Next thing she'd discover was that he was a mob boss or the king pin in a drug operation. After learning he had a son she wasn't sure anything would surprise her anymore. "But tell me," he questioned, "why do the Charming's want to help the Evil Queen."

The words made her choke again on the drink she'd just taken. What the bloody hell  _was_  that all about?! "The Evil Queen"? Was that a code name or something? And why call the Mayor evil? Sure she'd gotten the sense once that she wasn't the nicest person in town but "evil"? And why call her "Queen" when she was merely the mayor? Did she have the wrong "Regina" or was that a code name all on it's own?! Instead of things getting clearer they just seemed to be getting stranger and stranger.

"Because I owe her," the woman explained, "after what I did to Cora."

She heard rattling around before he finally muttered. "Never underestimate the power of a guilty conscience."

"What is that?" the woman questioned.

"This is one of Regina's tears?" She had to replay the words over in her head to be sure she'd heard right. A tear? A real tear? Like a tear you'd cry?! Now she knew he must have been using code words. But what on Earth would have the code name of a "tear"? And if they were all in the room and could clearly see what he was referring to then why use code words? Did they suspect she was listening? Was the place bugged?

"Why do you have one of Regina's tears?" the woman asked sounding almost as confused as she felt.

There was silence again for a moment, then he answered simply "because I do" in that same mysterious voice that had made her so angry only minutes ago. Hell it made her angry now! She didn't want the mysterious voice right now. She didn't want code names or words, she wanted to know what they were talking about, she wanted to know what she was overhearing! She wanted to see. Could she risk a glance through the curtain? "This spell, however requires two tears." Spell? What could that be code for? Surely it couldn't mean what she thought it meant!

"You want one from me?" the woman asked sounding confused but also put off.

"Well, just think of a dark moment, dearie, something bleak, and hopeless. I know you have a few."

There was silence as she listened, not listened really, it was more intense. She was hanging on every word. But all that answered her quiet. If this wasn't a coded conversation, if she was crazy enough to take everything literally, then she could only imagine that the woman was trying to cry, but she wasn't sure how she felt about that. If it wasn't coded, and they really were talking about tears, then he'd also meant what he'd said about it being a spell. Like magic!

No! No, no, no! Suddenly she felt like she was right back in her hospital bed, or sitting in front of her sewing machine yesterday when she'd first seen that damn car! She couldn't be considering this. Not magic. Not again. Could she? But what other option did she have? It was either code or magic. If they weren't talking figuratively then they had to be talking literally. If not A, then B right? God, she wished he would have just told her what was going on! There had to be a logical, reasonable, non-crazy-sounding, answer for all of this. Something that wasn't magic!

She heard him whisper something but couldn't make it out, and strained to hear the rest of the conversation. "Now, when you drop this into your eye you will be connected with Regina, wherever she is. Whatever she sees, you'll see. Whatever she feels, you'll feel," he concluded.

"How long does the spell last?" the man asked with the smallest hint of hesitation in his voice. No wonder, if they were talking about what she thought they were talking about then she'd be nervous as hell too. Why wasn't the woman?!

"Long enough to lead you to her," Gold answered. "With that, I've fulfilled my end of the bargain. Good-bye."

She heard the shuffling of feet and the man mutter something about "always a pleasure". She scrambled to direct her attention just in time to the glass case she'd been pretending to study. The two exited through the curtain and the man offered her an awkward nod which she didn't return. She was too busy looking at what was in his hand. She wanted it to be something dangerous, a gun, a weapon, hell, it could be drugs for all she cared so long as it wasn't what she thought she was seeing.

She only caught a glimpse of it before the man stuck it into the pocket of his coat, but there was no mistaking it. It was a small bottle, something that would fit easily in the palm of her hand. Inside was a watery liquid of some kind. There wasn't much of it. It looked like water. It moved like water. But she had a feeling that ran right down through her gut that it wasn't just water. And if it wasn't water, then she suspected she knew exactly what had gone into making the substance in that bottle, and if it was what she thought it was, then that meant everything he just said in that room, and everything she'd been told was a lie...was true! And if the car that she'd seen that night not only existed but was his...if two of the people that took her to the hospital that night were real...if what she'd seen in that bottle really were tears and they did somehow make a spell then…

Her mind swam. It struggled to connect the pieces she'd been given but also fought against her in a way. It made sense, but it didn't. Logic told her two plus two was four. But it didn't tell her what to do if two plus two couldn't equal four. If she believed it then she'd have to deny everything she'd been taught her entire life. If she didn't then it might be logical but nothing added up correctly. If she'd seen the car and the people then wouldn't that logically mean that everything else she'd seen that night was real too? Like Mr. Gold standing protectively over her, holding a ball of fire? Like the possibility that magic wasn't a myth, but a fact?

And if that was a fact…what the hell had really hit her that night?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go. She is finally to that place where she is ready to believe and accept that something is going on and it's more than Mr. Gold and his secrets about his son. I hope that the progression throughout this chapter makes sense. If the car was a good first step then I figured realizing David and Mary Margaret were real too was a good second step and the conversation about magic and then seeing the tears really was going to seal the deal. I hope that it makes as much sense to ya'll as it does to me!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	23. Yes, Magic Does Exist

She stared after the man and woman as they strode quickly out of the room, her mind so in shock it was only capable of putting things together in small bursts.

They were on a mission.

To rescue the Mayor.

With a spell.

Made from tears.

Using magic.

It was real.

It was real! All this time, it had been real, it was true! Everything she'd seen before she'd gotten to the hospital, while she'd been there, that conversation with Greg Mendell, and the way everyone acted like there was some prank going on around town that she wasn't privy to…this was it! Her sensible side told her not to believe it…there was no such thing as magic! But on the other hand, she'd always been told not to believe something unless she'd seen it or had proof. Well, hadn't she seen it! The substance the man was carrying, the conversation about the spell, the one he'd had with Neal about turning the doctor into a snail, even the blurry memories of a long dark road, of a pain in her shoulder, and a ball of fire in the palm of his hand! Wasn't that proof enough?! It had all been true?!

Her mouth was dry from hanging open, her legs felt so shaky that if she wasn't holding onto the counter she surely would have fallen down by now, unable to support herself under the weight of...all this! How long had it been going on in the first place? Since she moved here? Was the town strange like this before she went into the hospital? She strained her mind, she tried to think back that far to any other strange incidents, but she couldn't recall any. Damn, her memory still wasn't what it should be, only now she felt as though she needed it to be!

How wide spread was this? Could everyone in town do it? No, if everyone could do it then that couple wouldn't have come to him for help they would have just done it on their own. So then, were they the only people who knew that he could perform magic or did the entire town know? Well, they certainly all acted like they knew! But that still didn't explain why she didn't know. Why hadn't anyone told her about this when they moved here? And why hadn't he told her? Why had everyone at the hospital actively denied that she hadn't seen magic? Did they really just want to keep it all to themselves? Or did they think she was too delicate? Too frail to handle something like this in her injured state?

Well, no more! They might not have told her before, but she knew now. She'd heard everything and she was going to get answers now! He might have refused to answer her questions about Neal and she might have tolerated it because she had nowhere else to go, but this was an entirely different level of knowledge. This wasn't just personal, this was factual! And if he still refused to give her answers then she'd return to her "Plan B" and find someone else. Surely in a town where people looked at him with fear she'd find someone who hated him enough and was willing to talk about him behind his back, who would tell her precisely what was going on. Hell, she'd go back to the bar and find Keith if it meant that she could get the truth.

But that was plan B! Plan A was just behind the curtain and he wasn't going to get away with just "nothing" this time. She wanted the truth and one way or the other before the sun set today, she was going to understand everything. She was certain of that! As soon as the couple left the shop, she gathered her courage and her glass for some liquid courage if need be, then pulled the curtain back. His back was too her, handling something in the cabinet that she couldn't identify. Something he had used to "whip up" the "spell" perhaps? She cleared her throat to announce her return and watched as he stilled at the noise. She couldn't see his face, but the way he'd gone rigid like that, if she didn't know any better she'd say he acted like he knew he'd been caught. Maybe her first instinct after being kicked out had been right, maybe he had spoken loud enough for her to hear on purpose. Maybe he wasn't even aware that he'd wanted her to hear.

"So it's, uh, so it's true?" she asked looking at him with knowing eyes. If she was going to go for this then she may as well go into it as confident as possible! But her confidence was merely a well placed mask. Certain as she was, she still needed to hear him say the words because the last thing she need was to end up feeling like she was going crazy again. "I-I heard everything," she explained, hoping that maybe her bluntness would rub off and he would do the same for her. Or think that she really did have him cornered and there was nowhere he could hide, nothing he could say, to get out of this. She wanted him to think, to know, that he wouldn't be telling her anything new and might as well say it out loud.

He shut the cabinet door and glanced back at her over his shoulder. But he didn't quite meet her gaze and it was hard to figure out exactly what was going through his mind. He said nothing to her. But it didn't worry her. He wasn't admitting it, sure. But more importantly, he wasn't denying it either.

"You, uh, you really can do magic," she accused, still trying to sound as cool and collected as he made himself out to be. Maybe if, on the off chance she was wrong, she didn't freak out like she had in the hospital then she wouldn't wind up back there at the end of the day accused of hallucinations and a mental break down. But that was a big "if" in her book. How on Earth could she have misunderstood what she'd heard? What else could explain what she'd seen since that night on the road?!

He glanced down at the empty glass in her hand while she continued to stare him down, unwilling to take her eyes off of the deceptive creature before her. "I think you might want to pour yourself another drink," he suggested calmly.

She made a sound of confirmation. Obviously. She always wanted a drink. But right now she wanted the truth more than alcohol. "No," she stubbornly set her glass down on the table, nearly slamming it frankly, but sending a clear message that it wasn't going to work. He couldn't distract her like he'd tried to before. If magic was real, then she needed to know just what had happened in her life. Alcohol wasn't going to send her into a stupor like he'd hoped it would today after they'd fought and he'd handed her a glass. She wasn't going to let him distract her with promises of jewelry like this morning! And…

Her jaw dropped as an old event suddenly flashed in front of her mind with new meaning. Their first night together. She'd tried to coerce him into bed. He'd touched her neck, she'd felt suddenly tired, and gone right to sleep...only now she'd realized she'd gone to sleep a little too easily. She'd thought it had just been the result of an abnormal day. She didn't normally blackout, but she had just attributed it to needing to rebuild her alcohol tolerance. But what if it wasn't that. What if it was much simpler, albeit, unorthodox. He'd used some kind of spell on her. Did it work that way? Was it possible that he'd put some kind of enchantment on her that had put her to sleep? But…why would he do that?! And what else had he done without her knowledge then? Suddenly her thirst for information grew stronger. Now she didn't feel like she wanted to know, she felt like she had a right to know. And she couldn't stand to go get the information elsewhere because no one else could tell her what he could? What had he done with her?!

"How about a drink?" he insisted gently with a smile.

"No!" she practically screamed "No we need to talk about this and we need to talk about it right now! I heard you talking! I heard you talking about magic and spells and tears!" He stared down at his hands, resting on his cane. He was listening to her, he just wasn't saying anything. But just like before she took it as a good thing. He wasn't denying it. "Everything that's been going on since I got hit by the car, everything that I thought I saw that everyone told me was a hallucination is all true, isn't it?! You-you did heal me that night!" she accused trying to recall all the irrefutable evidence to her mind again. "You did hold fire in your hand! There was a Man-in-Black. And magic does exist!"

Still nothing.

"Damn it Gold. Don't just stand there like a coward! Say something! Am I right? Or am I just hallucinating again? Please," she begged, suddenly aware that there were tears gathering in her eyes. And they weren't just any tears, which revealed only one simple emotion. They were angry tears. Angry that people had kept this from her. Angry that this secret might have somehow been used against her without her knowledge or permission. They were disappointed tears, too. Disappointed he hadn't told her and even now continued to refuse to tell her. But most of all they were desperate. They were desperate for information and for confirmation. Desperate to know for sure that she wasn't going crazy that she wouldn't end up mindless in the hospital again as she had before. Desperate in a way that she hadn't been desperate in for days, since she left the hospital!

The small voice that was in the back of her head, the one that she had worked hard to silence after she'd gotten out of the hospital, was whispering again. It was telling her she was wrong. She'd made a mistake. She wasn't as smart or as sane as she thought she was. It was telling her that she really was crazy. She never cried. She never begged! She couldn't remember the last time she really had, at least not as herself. But then she couldn't remember when anything was ever as important as this. Hell, she didn't even understand how important it was until this moment, until the tears started to cloud her vision and the words tore from her throat without permission. She just didn't want to feel crazy again. Not now, not ever.

"Please. Tell me," she begged, "tell me I heard what I heard. Tell me I saw what I saw. Please! Tell me I'm not as crazy as they said I was! Just tell me that. Am I crazy?! Am I?!"

"No! You are not crazy!" he burst out angrily, then shook his head as if he was surprised that he'd lost control and said it.

The room seemed to get freakishly still and silent in light of his sudden insistence. Neither one of them said anything. He stared at her, his hands still flexing on his cane, like he was trying to judge how she was handling the news. If not A then B. And in this case B was magic.

So, how was she handling the news?

She wasn't entirely sure. He was staring at her but she was staring at him too. Vaguely away of her mouth hanging open and the thoughts coursing through her mind. She wasn't crazy. She had seen the ball of fire. He'd healed her shoulder. She wasn't crazy. She'd heard him talking about spells and enchantments. She wasn't crazy. Magic was real. And that meant she wasn't crazy!

"You're not crazy," he whispered a bit more gently. He still looked shocked, but then, after another moment of judgment, he gave what she could only assume was a sigh of defeat. But if he was giving in, she just didn't have the emotions at the moment to be excited. "Yes," he stated confidently, "magic does exist."

Her jaw dropped at the revelation, at the crystal clear words that had just come out of his mouth. Magic was real. It existed. Then that meant…

"You did put me to sleep the other night!"

He turned his gaze away from her, but did nod.

She let out a disappointed breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in. He had put her to sleep. He put her to sleep! Yes, but he hadn't done anything why she'd slept, she remembered. Her memory of how he'd reacted that morning when she'd suggested they might have done something convinced her easily of that. So she didn't need to ask why. She knew why. It was the same reason he'd stopped them last night, the same reason he'd fallen asleep although for all she knew that had been some kind of illusion or spell. What it was didn't matter, what was important was why he'd done it. It was Belle. But somehow that wasn't bothering her at the moment. No, the question on her mind was if he'd done that to her without a thought what else had he done that could be contributed to magic? She searched her mind, but couldn't come up with anything. Was that because of her head injury? Or was it because there hadn't been anything else?

Oh, God, her head was spinning again. He was right, she should have taken that drink. She turned to where she'd left her glass and poured herself another swallow. "What else?" she asked, not even bothering to look at him. "What else did you do without me knowing? Was that it?! Or was there-"

"No, that was all," he admitted shamefully, his voice barely audible. Good. He should be ashamed. That was a terrible thing to do to another person! But then again, as shameful as it was, it was also…fascinating!

It was the strangest thing. She should be angry. She should be furious. But she just wasn't. She was curious. She was interested. Magic was real! The thing fairy tales were made of existed! Ever since last night she'd felt like things with him had been slowly unraveling over the last eighteen hours and now the fabric she was working with had all snapped back into place. She could be angry and furious about what he'd done later! But now? She wanted to see just what it could do!

"Magic exists," she repeated, finally looking up to see his face. His eyes were still cast down at the hands on his cane, but she did see him give her the slightest nod. "Show me." His head snapped up at her words, his eyes widened in surprise, like he couldn't believe what she was asking him to do. "I want to see it. Magic. I want to see magic. Show it to me. Now!" she demanded without option.

The stared each other down for a moment, the sound of their breathing too loud in such an enclosed space. Then, slowly but confidently, he reached out, took the nearly gone bottle of whiskey from the table and let it fall to the floor where it shattered with a loud crash into a mess of glass and amber liquid. She jumped back at the action, and gave a little squeal, instinct screaming at her not to get anything on her shoes. She stared confused at the mess before her then up at him, angry and confused. Why had he'd done that? She'd asked to see magic not broken glass! Why would he-

But before she could get the words out, before she had time to truly process her thoughts, he gave a wave of his hand. Thick purple smoke swirled for a second around the floor, then snaked upward, and, literally, in a puff of smoke reformed in the blink of her eye in his hand. He was holding a whole solid bottle, now completely full of whiskey. She glanced down at the floor. Clean and dry, not a drop of liquid or a shard of glass remained, and when she glanced back up into his face she smiled at the proud smirk the beast was sporting.

Magic was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now she knows and now the plot thickens. Dun, dun, DUN! Ya'll, Lacey hasn't been my favorite character to write for this series, there is no doubt about that, but you know I just absolutely loved getting the opportunity to write this chapter. I hope that you'll think it's good. I didn't have much to go on, only like the first four lines of their conversation but I hope that I kept everyone in character and continued the conversation in a believable way! That is my goal after all!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	24. The Truth Can Set You Free

In the silent aftermath of the healed whiskey bottle, he turned and poured the new liquid into their glasses then offered it to her. She shouldn't. He'd already used magic against her once. But as the snake had tempted Eve with the apple she found herself unable to stop from reaching out and taking it from him. God, it tasted better than it had before! Better than anything she'd had before!

"How is this possible?" she asked taking another swallow and snatching the bottle from him to pour herself more. "Where did the magic come from? Did someone teach you? Can anyone learn this?"

"No, no, nothing like that," he whispered a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. He held a soft hand up to silence her but she had so many questions she didn't know what to ask first! Not to mention, for the first time, she liked what she saw there in his eyes. Interest. Finally, true interest. It would have been welcomed last night but considering...well... _this_ she was willing to overlook it at the moment in favor of answers and understanding. "The magic comes with a curse."

"A curse?" she repeated. If he had told her all this yesterday she would have thought he was lying to her, and she would have yelled at him for even suggesting such a crazy thing to her after all she'd been through. But suddenly she found herself willing and eager to believe it. Cursed? As in a mummy's curse? Or the curse of the Hope Diamond? That kind of cursed? Or the kind of cursed she should be worried about. Angels, Demons, Vampires, and Werewolves, the kind of things the tweens were reading these days. Was he dangerous? She usually went for that kind of thing, but even she had her limits and she wanted to know exactly how dangerous he was! It wouldn't be worth it if being around him put her in danger. She'd rather be powerless than dead...or cursed. "What kind of curse?"

His eyes wandered over her skeptically, still looking more confused than she was, which she was sure couldn't have been easy in a time like this. But then, he broke into a wide sinister smile, one nearly identical to the one he'd sported when she'd found him with Keith. It wasn't just the look on his face that changed. His back seemed straighter. His shoulders higher. Even though he hadn't moved an inch it was as if he'd just dropped a terrible Halloween mask and now she could see him for what he really was. That thing that lurked within him, that inner monster, wasn't just "inner" anymore. It had taken over, hovering there on the surface of his skin. He didn't just seem powerful. He was powerful. She could see it now. God, it practically radiated off of him, one rolling wave after another! No wonder he'd tried to keep it contained! Now that it was out and free, she felt like there was only barely space enough for them in this room.

"It's the kind of curse you acquire through an object," he explained with obvious pride in his voice. "I was made the Dark One after ridding the world of the one who held the curse before I did, and I have been the Dark One ever since."

"And when you say 'ever since'," she questioned, thinking back on her unanswered question concerning his age, "just how long is that?"

He snorted and shook his head, giving off an air that the question was too menial to be answered truthfully for the likes of him. "Long enough to see kingdoms rise and fall."

Excitement stirred in her chest and a smile bloomed on her face. That could be centuries, millennia even! And to think she'd been worried about him being as old as her father! Considering the facts he looked pretty damn good for his age! And this, this was amazing! Remarkable! Outstanding! And she didn't mean to sound like a twelve-year-old girl but this was the coolest thing she'd ever encountered!

"More!" she demanded "I want to see more. Show me more."

He was no longer timid, or shy, or shameful. His entire demeanor had changed, right down to how he walked, strut really, with pride and confidence. Even with the cane! Maybe it wasn't Belle that had been standing in their way after all. Maybe it was just this! To be honest, as nice as last night had been, as good as she'd felt when she thought they were "bonding", which was obviously a lie because if they had been he would have told her all this, she much preferred this side of him than the awkward gentleman she'd been dealing with. She was suddenly very glad she hadn't left.

He pulled a black bag from some obscure corner of the room and set it on the work table. She gathered herself on the other side, moving the bottles and glasses away to make room for the object and whatever it contained. But when he opened it, she was met with disappointment. Bottles. Tons of glass bottles filled with different colored liquids and substances. Well, she hadn't exactly been expecting him to pull a rabbit out of the hat or throw glitter in the air, but she'd been expecting more than this! There was nothing magical about it at all.

But then he pulled a vial out of it, she stared in amazement as he wave his hand around the ordinary object, and suddenly the clear liquid within glowed green. She smiled, and managed to contain a sigh of disbelief as she watched it. Her mind felt suddenly hallow and empty as she searched for the right words to describe exactly what she was feeling. But she just couldn't. Never in her life had anything made her this speechless. And more importantly, never had anyone in her life, impressed her this much. He could do anything! No wonder people were afraid of him!

"So..." she continued on finally finding her voice, "why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked grabbing the bottle away from him to examine it. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he told her last night or this morning? Or even in the hospital when she'd asked if he'd healed her? And, for that matter, why hadn't anyone at the hospital told her? Was it because she was an outsider? Because she'd moved here they didn't trust her enough with something like this? Or had they not known themselves? No, that was unlikely given the looks they'd given her whenever she'd even mentioned the word "magic". They'd known. So why had everyone kept it from her? Why had he?

"Because magic always comes with a price," he answered as she looked at the substance. "Tends to drive away the people I care about most,"

She couldn't help but smirk at his words. There was a hidden implication there, one that she caught onto. She hadn't been wrong, he did care about her. He was simply afraid she'd leave if he told her about magic. She felt lighter, happier almost at the words. Last night hadn't been a complete lie. But still that didn't stop her from thinking that the excuse he'd given her was absolutely absurd! How could magic be terrible if he could have anything he wanted, if he could give anyone anything they wanted, in a heartbeat? Who would be insane enough to reject magic!

"Well, then, you've been caring about the wrong people," she insisted, with a tempting smile, hoping he'd pick up on the subtle meaning behind her words. Belle might have been the wrong kind of person but she wasn't. Magic was a part of him wasn't it? Just like fashion was a part of her. If people were driven away by that then it was their problem but not his! And why should they be driven away by it. It was so alluring. What price would be so high that it wasn't worth it? "What else can you do?" she asked curiously, but in that same demanding tone that said she didn't want words, only actions.

He smirked at her and she knew that he'd understood instantly. He raised his arm in the air and when he lowered it there was a beautiful necklace swinging from his fingers. An expensive looking, jewel encrusted necklace. She was no expert, but if the whiskey tasted better than before, she was pretty sure the gems weren't fake…or cheap. She looked up at him, and smiled when she realized that it wasn't just for show, he intended for her to have it. Oh, yes, this was far better than anything else he could have given her in the shop to "make-up" for last night. How could someone have been driven away by something like this?! Who wouldn't want to be spoiled this way?!

"Anything," he answered as she rounded the corner and allowed him to fasten the chain around her neck. "There are many perks," he continued absent-mindedly, "to being the Dark One."

The words caught her attention in a way they hadn't so far. Possibility. There were perks to being the Dark One, as he'd called himself, but the question on the tip of her tongue was "what was in it for the girlfriend of the Dark One?" She might not have been the girlfriend type but she could be if it was worth her while. She was already reaping the benefits of their short term relationship. The evidence hung around her neck, sat on a desk in her apartment, and stared her in the face with a look of fear in the Rabbit Hole yesterday. Obviously there were perks to being the Dark One's girlfriend, she just wanted to know how far those perks went, his limits.

Could he make all her dreams come true? Could he make her famous? Could she wake up tomorrow in New York City, in a penthouse, designing for the stars? Could she be on a red carpet this week? Looking fabulous in a dress she'd made getting the recognition she'd wanted for years! "Here we have Lacey, of Lacey Fashions and Designs, looking beautiful and stunning as always!" she could practically hear the interviewer say. Was it possible, that what should have taken her years, would take only a wave of his hand? That would definitely count as a perk. Better yet, could she do it forever? He'd confessed to being far older than he looked, could he do the same for her? Could that same reporter interview her thirty years from now on that same red carpet and say "Lacey, you are looking young as always what is your secret?"

Magic. That would be a hell of a perk! A hell of a worth while perk!

"Immortality being one of them right?" she clarified, backing into it from a different place. Far better to make sure she understood correctly than to start making assumptions. She caught a nod of his head behind her, and her heart hammered as she imagined her body always being as it was now, never a wrinkle or a bruise, or a sag in sight. Was it possible for her as well? "Could you, uh, could you keep me young?" she dared to ask, trying to contain her excitement.

"Yeah," he answered. It was better than she expected. Not only could she have everything, she could have it forever. The fame most people never lived long enough to see, the glory they received long after their death, and the beauty that she'd always known she'd had, she could have it all. They both could! So long as she could keep him interested, keep him by her side, show him that it could be a win/win for both of them. Telling her about magic and her acceptance was already a good start. Casting out the memory of Belle would be a nail in the coffin.

"Cause..." she turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his neck giving a smile at the prospects that awaited them. "Cause then we could be together," she told him. "Nothing can keep us apart," she added with a shake of her head to emphasize that fact. He wouldn't have to walk through his long life alone. And she, well, she could have the life she'd always dreamed about and more even!

He stared back at her, she'd been hoping he would kiss her, that would tell her that this truly was possible, but instead he pulled away. No, not physically-mentally. He gave her that look again! The one like something she'd said made him do a double take. "What?" she asked, questioning his reaction. It had happened in the blink of an eye. He was an open book for her to read when he wanted to be but there were times like this when she said something, a meaningless phrase, and it seemed to shut him off from her. The best way to describe it, she realized, was that it wasn't the fact that  _she_ had said the words, but rather the fact that she'd said  _those words._ The beast that she'd been dealing with, that she'd been impressed with, began receding again. She wished she knew exactly what she did that caused that, because it would be the first thing she stopped doing.

He shook his head and released her, looking solemn again, like the moment had never happened, as be backed away from her. "There is one thing..." he muttered.

"What is it?" she asked as he put distance between them. Why did he do that? Always pull away from her? Most men couldn't wait to hang all over her, but with him, it seemed every time she tried to get close, he suddenly took two steps back!

"Immortal means to live forever," he explained like he was reading a dictionary to her. "It doesn't mean one can't be killed." She really didn't know what to say to that, or what it meant? Did he really spend his life walking on eggshells afraid someone would come out of a dark ally and murder him?! He was the Dark One, as he'd so cleverly put it, he might not know exactly what that meant or implied but if he could keep himself young forever couldn't he just as easily protect himself magically, or predict it in the tea leaves, or something like that?! "There was a prophecy made," he continued as he packed away the black bag. "Someone  _might_  be my undoing."

"Well..." Damn, that even sounded prophetic, but it also sounded like the weakest excuse she'd ever heard. That was it! Seriously! Someone 'might' be his 'undoing'. He had magic, couldn't he find out who it was or guess? Or had he thought of this himself and did he already know who it was? "Well, do you-do you know who this someone is?!" she questioned.

He nodded, and a rush of relief washed over her. Strange, she didn't even know the news had made her tense. But if he knew who the "someone" was then the answer was simple wasn't it? For someone who called himself "The Dark One" it probably didn't even require a second thought?

"Then-then, get rid of them," she pointed out. From the back of her mind, a small voice acknowledged just how much she'd changed in the last couple of days. She'd always wanted to be well known, to have power and control over her life, but she'd never been ruthless before, not like that statement suggested! And while she'd committed small crimes, shoplifting being her most prevalent, she'd never actually hurt anyone. She'd encouraged others to do the dirty work for her, but those words seemed to indicate a step beyond hurt. "Stop them," she corrected, but she was surprised to find the words coming out of her mouth weren't enough to satisfy her as the previous statement had. She really did want this threat to their rule gone, and she wanted it gone permanently. If someone had told her an hour ago she would be having a conversation like this she would never have believed it. And yet, here she was. Yet another example that the future really wasn't what it seemed.

"It's complicated; something standing in my way," he whispered in a harsh tone. She hated that tone, the one that was like she had no idea what she was talking about or didn't understand, like she was a child too immature to ever really know anything. She knew exactly what she was dealing with, she might not know about magic, but she'd learned quickly enough that he wanted to impress her, and with the right words, the right tone of voice, and the right look-she was confident she could get him to do just about anything. Even push him to rid them of the anonymous someone he'd just mentioned and secure their future…her future.

She gave him a carefully chosen disappointed smile. "I thought you were a man who-who wouldn't let anything stand in his way."

With those words she watched as the uneasy look vanished. Yes, she'd said the right thing and the beast reemerged just as fast as he'd disappeared. Suddenly he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close against him with a sharp tug. She beamed, surprised but also excited at his sudden choice of actions. This was the reaction she'd been trying to get before! This was the one she'd waited for ever since that night he'd pummeled Keith half to death! Were they going to pick up right where they'd left off? Were they finally going to seal this deal with something more frantic than a kiss? Were they going to put the cot behind her to good use?

"I am," he muttered.

She waited for him to attempt to pull her closer, to kiss her, to explore her body with his hands and...

Just as quickly as he'd grabbed her, he suddenly let go. And before she could question what had happened, he had strode quickly out of the shop and left her standing alone in the small room, trying to piece together what had just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, see this scene is what I'm talking about when I say that Gold was really struggling during the time of Lacey. She really does bring out the worst in him because days ago, IMO, he went to Belle's bedside specifically to get her so that she would help him not to destroy Henry. I don't think he would have done it that first day, I don't think he would have done it on the Mysterious 2nd Day, and on this, the last day of Lacey's life, I don't think he would have done it if she hadn't encouraged him to do it at all. And even now, the way he leaves her just standing there, I wanted it to be that way because in my mind if he stopped too long to think about it or get emotional...he wasn't going to do it. He had to leave quickly. Which leads us to our next chapter!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	25. Catching Her Breath

He pulled away from her so fast she had to reach out and steady herself on the table to keep from toppling over. And before she could even register the fact that he was leaving she heard the bell at the front of the shop chime. She was alone. But unlike the times he'd left her yesterday, she was in a strange place, and without her sewing machine she had nothing to do. No plans to make, no places to go, no dresses to design. Nothing. For the first time since she had left the hospital, and started this crazy journey, she had a moment to simply catch her breath. She had a moment to let her mind wander, to breathe in the quiet air, to think about how far she'd come, and what had happened since that day.

And what exactly had just happened anyway?!

One minute they were talking about the future, a prophecy, about getting rid of someone who might be a threat to the power that he possessed, and the next minute he was out the door! Did that mean he was going to do it? He had said that he knew who the person was, so was he going to stop them like she had suggested? Obviously he hadn't thought to take her along on this adventure, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to be completely disappointed about that. Although she usually like to watch grand displays of power, impressed by simple intimidation, she had no idea what he was going to do to this person and she wasn't quite sure if it was something she wanted to be present for or not. She'd told him to "get rid" of the person and to "stop" them, but she wasn't sure what that meant she wanted him to do. She knew how it could be interpreted, but that was extreme, even for her taste.

Would he know that though? Surely he wouldn't kill the person would he? Surely he'd know of some other way to stop them. Couldn't he cast a spell and turn the person into a baby again, or hypnotize them to forgetting who he was, or even just make a potion that would make them want to leave town unexpectedly?! Wouldn't that take care of it? Or were prophecies always doomed to come true? She had no idea. She knew nothing about magic, or spells, or prophecies, and the little she'd seen today might have given her some answers about the weird stuff going on in town, but it didn't tell her everything. It was like she'd opened a present and found a key waiting inside that could unlock an entire vault! And that vault…well, inside it was astounding, but also overwhelming and far to big to completely take in all at once.

There was so much that it could offer her! She'd seen her life, her future, flash in front of her eyes as he'd shown her magic. With magic, everything was open to her. She could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone, all without having to spend years toiling away or working her way up the chain the way others did. She might not have known much, but she knew that it was a much better future than the one she had here. Oh, sure, there were people who would tell her it was lazy, that the easy way was never the right way. Obviously those people had never met a man like Mr. Gold, and obviously they hadn't known magic existed. She didn't know a person in the entire world who wouldn't take the easy way if it was offered to them.

Of course, taking this easy way, suddenly all hinged upon whether or not he succeeded. And how exactly he would define success. Her hand automatically flew up to the necklace that hung at her throat. Magic always has a price. That was what he'd told her. The question she found herself asking now was how much was she willing to pay for the future she saw in her head? She unclasped the necklace and held it in the palm of her hand. It was beautiful, there was no doubt about that in her mind. And she could have more. Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe even thousands more than this. But was it worth the stranger's happiness? The stranger's destiny? Was it worth the stranger's life? Her natural instinct screamed at her that of course it was! Why was she questioning this? Everything had changed now that magic was involved. For all she knew the man he'd gone off to defeat had magic too. Survival of the fittest!

But there was a second voice, a faint one, in the back of her head that sounded like her but at the same time didn't. The voice spoke words like what she imagined her mother might say. Nothing was worth the life of another person, no matter who that person was.

No, she wasn't sure what she wanted him to do. And she sure as hell didn't know why it was so important to her!

She barely knew Gold, and yet here she was, hoping that he'd come back alive, that the prophecy wouldn't be carried out, rooting him on. As much as she wanted to pretend like she was thinking it just to ensure her own future, she knew, maybe from that same mysterious voice, that she was worried about his survival. And that was the most curious thing of all. Why would she care? She'd vowed after her mother died she'd never let herself feel something like that again. Compassion was weakness. Caring was dangerous. Love was…an unthinkable impossibility.

She shook her head, trying her best to expel the magnificent thoughts, or maybe just confound the part of her brain that owned that small voice. Love wasn't an issue here. She wasn't sure how it had gotten into her head, but she was certain that it didn't apply to this situation. As for whether or not she was feeling compassion or caring for him…well, loathed as she was to admit it, they were a distinct possibility. But she had no idea where they had come from so quickly. Sure, she'd been having a good time with him. Admittedly, it wasn't all fun and games, that first day had been a complete failure, yesterday had its moments, but with everything that she'd learned so far today it made up for a lot of it! But it didn't explain why she'd feel this way about him after such a short period of time.

Unexpectedly frustrated at the riddle in her head, she flung the necklace onto the table before her so hard it skid across the surface and dropped onto the floor. She really hadn't meant to make the action so violent, but she couldn't help herself. She was just so damn tired of being confused! Ever since that night on the road! First with her memories, then with magic, now feelings?! What the hell was happening to her? It seemed like each time she got an answer five more questions popped into her head.

She left the necklace to wherever it had disappeared to and dropped down onto the cot, letting her head fall into her hands in a frustrated gesture. She hadn't known Gold that long. So why was this so important to her? Why did she care so much about his survival? And an even better question: what would she do about it if he did survive?

What if he did walk through that door in a minute and proclaim that the threat was over? What then? What did he think would happen? He was clearly a lonely man, desperate for human interaction, she'd picked up on that even when she'd been in the hospital. With the last hour or so being the exception, that seemed to be the prevailing character trait. But she didn't know if that change was permanent now that she knew about magic. Still, what if he came back and there was nothing to stand in his way? Would he give her everything that she asked for? What would he require in return? Loyalty? Eternity? Friendship? More? She'd always liked the fact that she wasn't tied down to anyone. The way she saw it she was young and beautiful and if she could use that to help her get something she needed then it would be a shame to waste her natural gifts, just as everyone else was entitled to use theirs to help them get what they wanted. But what if he wanted more from her? What if his price was her? Was her life as she knew it worth her future? Could she take him with her on her journey? Would she go with him? Forever? Arm in arm? Hell, she wasn't even the girlfriend type could she really be…

God, she couldn't even bear to think the word! Of course she'd thought about it. What woman hadn't at some time or another? But she always thought that if anyone could convince her to be in such a relationship, it would be different. Much different. She thought it would be more like her parents, who seemed to smile for days when they went out on something as simple as a date after twenty long years of marriage. She thought there would be something deeper than just the little amount of compassion she felt.

She slumped back against the wall and pulled the pink jacket she'd thrown on the bed into her lap, picking at an imaginary piece of lint. She didn't love him. She liked him, at least she did when he wasn't acting like a timid field mouse. But even then he was spoiling her, so she really couldn't complain about that. Like was something. But she always thought it would be more. It should be more. Maybe if the world was perfect, it would have been.

But as it was, like was all she had to offer. And what was so bad about like? She liked him, it could be much worse! And besides, she liked what he could do for her much more than the idea of losing him. She liked the idea of her dreams. She liked the idea of her future. She liked the idea of her father seeing her on the arm of the richest man in town, eating his words when fashion, as it turned out, wasn't just a career for his daughter, but the best thing that had ever happened to her! So what if like was all she could give. Others had started relationships on much less than like! Arranged marriages. Marriages of convenience. Gold diggers. There was always much less than like involved at the start of theirs, at least she had like.

And who knew? Days ago she hadn't even been in like with him. Time could change things! It could make the unmanageable manageable. The ordinary extraordinary. And, with any luck, it could make like something more. Maybe all they needed was time. Time for him to forget Belle. Time for her to realize that she liked him for something more than the power coursing through his veins. She couldn't make that day come any sooner, but she knew one thing. She had to stop resisting so much.

She had to stop telling herself that it was okay if she didn't feel anything. The little bit of caring and concern she felt for wherever he had gone proved that she didn't feel nothing for him. Now all she needed to do was try and feel more of it, despite the vow she'd made. She needed to at least act a little more caring than she'd been. It wasn't much, but it would be a start. It would be a place for them to begin. It wasn't ideal, but if she could teach herself to love him, and maybe earn his love in return someday, then they both might just be better off than they were that night on the road.

Maybe someday they'd even convince themselves that they were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it's a filler chapter but in my mind this was an important filler chapter to have because it allows her to slow down and take stock of her life and where she is at because everything has now changed for her. Everything. And that includes her relationship with Gold. I was looking here to mimic Belle in certain places but then also completely contradict her in others. Sort of just to show that even though they are the same person, they are different people. If you go with the theory that the Storybrooke characters were just the Enchanted Forest Characters without their most prominent characteristic, then it is my opinion that what Belle lost was her compassion. It's interesting to see a non-compassionate Belle, and where that lack of compassion would have taken her character. At least it's interesting to me.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	26. A Terrible Miscalculation

As she waited for him to return, she did what she could to keep her thoughts occupied. She hung her jacket up on a peg then poured herself another drink and wandered around the back room. What else was back here exactly? Could she find anything that could tell her more about him? Was there more magic? Not unless it was called lanolin, whatever the hell that was. When she lifted the lid off the strange brass pot she got a whiff of what was inside and quickly slammed it back on top covering her nose and mouth. That was disgusting! It smelled like a farm! God, she hoped that wasn't magic.

She wandered away and examined an old looking set of dishes, a globe, a couple of clocks. She opened up drawers, looking for personal documents, an album, a memoir, anything that might tell her more about the man she very well might be bound to. But she found nothing of interest. Some silverware, more jewelry, and some dusty files of paper work for the items in the shop. Nothing, just like his favorite word.

She couldn't say she was surprised exactly. He didn't seem like the kind to keep personal items where someone could easily find them. Then again he really didn't even seem the type to keep personal items in general. He was secretive enough that it wouldn't surprise her if he memorized important papers and burned them afterward. But he did have a safe! But before she could walk out to it, she realized, without a doubt, she couldn't get into. That was a fortified vault, she was sure, there was probably no use in even trying to see if it was unlocked. Maybe she'd find something out front, in the cash register.

But as she turned to walk back through the curtain, something else caught her eye. A spinning wheel, old-fashioned, like the kind to make thread or yarn. It was pushed into the back corner, hidden behind large furniture, but she could see the curve and spokes of its wheel easily enough. She didn't know what drew her to it, or why it alone had caught her attention, but somehow, out of all the objects he had in the room, it seemed to stick out the most. She couldn't quite get to it, not without pushing other, heavier, items out of the way. But she managed to reach out her hand though the tangle of objects and rested it along curved wood. It rotated at her touch letting out an irritating squeeze. Whatever trance it had pulled her into broke at that sound and she pulled her hand away, rubbing the dust off of it and hoping the old thing hadn't given her any splinters.

She shook her head as she moved away, still looking at it suspiciously. What was that? Why had she felt so pulled to that particular object? Was there magic on it? Was that possible? Could certain items be magical? Was that what was so alluring about it? She tried to put distance between herself and the wheel. Whether there was magic in it or not, there was something unknown about it, something that made her head pound, and she didn't like it. She tried to find something else in the room, something else that attracted her, but it seemed like no matter where she looked or what she touched, the wheel kept finding its way back into her mind.

Suddenly the bell rang out in the main room and she jumped and gasped at he unexpected noise as it tore her attention from the wheel to the curtain. There was a sound like a door closing, and she felt a smile break out over her face. He'd come back! He'd been successful then! She ran her hands over her hair, fixed her dress, and poured more alcohol into their glasses so that they could celebrate. She quickly jumped back up onto the table in preparation for what might happen when he pulled back the curtain in triumph-

But nothing happened.

She watched the curtain for a while, but it never moved. Had she heard wrong? Had she not heard the bell and the door? Had that stupid spinning wheel distracted her that much? She tuned her senses passed that curtain, wondering if she could detect anything beyond it. Footsteps. Someone was in the shop. She listened to them as they made their way across the room, coming closer to the curtain, but just when she expected it to be pulled back, just when she could see a shadow, and shoes, which, thank God, where his, below, he turned and walked behind the counter.

She remained in place for a moment, thinking he was collecting something or other, but when more time passed realized he really wasn't coming into the back room. Had he forgotten she was there? Did he forget who had encouraged him to go out in the first place? She hopped off the counter and strode into the front of the store, intending to remind him and find out what had happened.

He was there. He was locking the safe, she knew it wouldn't have opened for her. Her eyes darted between him and the safe as he glanced over, aware of her presence but still saying nothing. The safe, had he put something in or taken something out? The only thing in the room that she hadn't seen before was a rag of some sort, crumpled up behind him on the counter top. Surely he hadn't been keeping that old thing in a safe! There must have been something wrapped in it, something he'd just put into the safe. Something that belonged to the person that could "undo him" perhaps.

"Well?" she asked curiously, trying to remember that she was attempting to be kinder to him, more caring. "What happened?"

But she knew something was wrong the moment she finally took a good look at his face. There was no triumph. There was no happiness or jubilation, like she expected there would be if he had just defeated an adversary. Did that mean he'd lost? Did that mean he wasn't powerful anymore? Was it possible that the "undoing" didn't mean he would lose his life, maybe just his power? Oh, God, was he upset because he'd lost his magic. Her heart sank at the realization. She hadn't planned on something like that happening.

She searched his face looking, fearing, what answers she might find written across it. But...no, that wasn't it either. If he had lost his magic she would expect to see sadness, defeat, anger! But he wasn't sporting any of those emotions. In fact, when she concentrated, she saw that he wasn't wearing any emotions. He looked dead, emotionless, detached even. What the hell had happened when he'd left her to cause such a drastic turn around?

"Gold?" she prompted, but he only sighed and stood hunched over his counter, rubbing his fingers through the dirty material before him. "What-"

"Something terrible has happened," he whispered harshly, cutting her off and silencing her.

Something terrible had happened? What was that supposed to mean? What terrible thing had occurred in her absence? She continued to stare at him, wondering when he was going to explain, but he didn't. She had to fight back the urge to let out an annoyed sigh and roll her eyes. It was hard to try being caring when he kept doing this mysterious man thing. Was he really like this all the time?! Was it really going to be a fight through hell every time she wanted to know something?! She was trying to be kind, and gentle, she'd just decided that she was going to stay with him hadn't she, to really try? But it was hard to remind herself of why she was doing that when he wouldn't even answer the simplest of questions. He obviously wanted to tell her! Otherwise he would have outright lied and said that everything was great, but instead he'd told her that something terrible happened. Did he really just expect her to shrug her shoulders and say "okay, let's get a bite to eat!" No! Of course not! He wanted to tell her, so why was he making this so hard?!

"Gold, what..." she managed, trying to unclench her fist and be supportive. But she'd already decided, if she was going to be here for a while, if she was going to stay with him indefinitely, this was the first habit she was going to break. Kind and caring were one thing. Patient was a completely different beast. "What happened? Are you alright?" He only hung his head, looking more exhausted than she'd ever seen him. "You're scaring me," she commented. "What's happened? Tell me!"

"Bae...Neal is dead," he muttered, so quietly she needed the silent pause to repeat the syllables over again in her head, string them together, and figure out what he'd said. Her jaw dropped and she found herself inhale a breath of surprise and confusion as she finally figured it out.

"Neal…Neal is dead? Neal as in your son...he's...dead?!" she gaped, making sure she had it all. He didn't shake or nod his head, but it was all the confirmation she needed. And suddenly she understood the look he was wearing. She'd seen that numbed blank stare before. On the faces of friends and family members, when she and her father had sat silently in the hospital lobby wondering where the time had gone and why this had happened to them. She'd seen herself wear that same expression when she looked in the mirror the morning after her mother had died. It was the look that came from loss, the look that came from feeling like no matter what you had in life you'd always be left with nothing, the look that could only come from grief. He wasn't lying to her. Neal was dead.

Neal was dead!

Neal was dead? How could that have happened? She'd just seen him this morning! He'd been perfectly healthy. Maybe not happy, it was true, and she really hadn't known him longer than a couple of minutes to know the difference, but he'd sure as hell been healthy enough to wrestle his father away from the doctor and have a screaming match with him in the middle of town. What could have happened between then and now?! Hardly any time had passed since she saw him last. He'd left to find the one that would be his undoing, he'd told her about the prophecy, he'd shown her magic, helped that couple, and it was before that he'd told her about his son. He'd told her…

Her heart suddenly plunged into her stomach as she replayed that conversation in her mind. Word for word.

Oh, God. He'd told her that Neal hadn't been important. He'd told her Neal had just recently come to Storybrooke. He'd told her the relationship was complicated. Just like he'd told her the prophecy was. Complicated. But he'd never told her how complicated it was…or why. Now she found herself curious in a frightening way, and wishing she wasn't. Why, exactly, had the prophecy been complicated? And why was the relationship with his son also "complicated"? Had he wanted his son around? Or did having him close threaten him some way? Could his son have been the one described in the prophecy? Oh, God. Where had he gone? What had happened to Neal?

What had he done?

"Gold," she stared at his broken form, wide-eyed and wondering if the terrible thoughts coursing through her mind could be true. She shouldn't ask the questions that were on her mind for fear of what he'd do to her if she guessed right. She should be afraid. But she wasn't. She wasn't sure where her bravery came from, just that it was strong enough to overcome her hesitation. "Gold, did you-did you kill your son?" she choked out, heart hammering in anticipation of what he might tell her, what he might do if she'd guessed right and knew his secret.

He'd heard her. There was no doubt about that. But it took him a moment to react. And when he did it was a simple but telling reaction. He cast her a small glance, but didn't say anything. Just stared at her, open-mouthed, as a flurry of emotions passed over his face, quickly, one right after the other. Anger. Disgust. Disappointment. Fury. Rage. Then, finally bewildered speechlessness. He grabbed his cane, stood up straight, took the filthy cloth in his hand, and silently left the room, casting her only a furious sideways glance as he passed, not even letting his shoulder brush her own. The sound of the whipping curtain further evidence to how truly angry he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, how could I be so cruel to our good friend Mr. Gold! But...the more and more I thought about how he would tell Lacey that Neal had died, the more I considered the previous chapters I'd written, and figured in both their personalities...this just seemed like a natural evolution for them. I felt like it was also a really good way to get Gold to really turn on Lacey and realize that he needs Belle. He knows that Belle would never accuse him of such a thing. Lacey doesn't. He needs Belle to get through this, but he just doesn't have her...yet...
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	27. Less Than a Day

He was angry. But she couldn't say that she blamed him. No matter what kind of relationship he had with his son, she'd just accused him of a terrible thing, even by her standards! There was no doubt in her mind that he had a right to be pissed off at her. Hell, he had a right to never want to see her again.

He hadn't killed his son. She knew that now. She had known it the moment she'd asked the question and he'd given her that insulted, hurt look. She didn't have children, something that her father had long considered a small miracle, but she did know what it was like to lose someone. She didn't know what had happened to Neal that caused him to meet an untimely fate, but she knew that if anyone had accused her of killing her mother, especially right after she'd died she would have…

Her fingers curled automatically into fists at the imaginary scenario. If someone had accused her like she'd accused him then she wouldn't have just stayed on the sidelines…she would have been the one doing the pummeling.

She listened to the sound of him moving around in the back room. She should say something...anything! But what was she supposed to say at a time like this. She tried to think back on that time her mother had died, remember what the people had said to her, but her memory failed her again, understandable for the grief she'd been going through at the time. She couldn't remember a single phrase. But she did remember one thing about the phrases. No one had said anything helpful! Not one thing. She tried to think back to those days and remember what she'd wanted someone to say. What she'd wanted someone to do? But it made her head spin, and her stomach roll. Also understandable.

So she couldn't remember specifics, and, frankly, she didn't want to remember anything about that period in her life again. If she never recovered those memories she'd be perfectly happy. But forgetting them wouldn't solve her problems now. What should she say to a man that just lost his son? What should she say to a man that she'd just accused of murdering his son?! She sighed and leaned against the wall, trying not to let her body make a loud thud. She could remember one thing about the moment her mother died. She could remember wanting to be alone. She could remember locking herself in her room, crying for hours, and trying to ignore the silence in the house. No, she couldn't find those memories, but she knew that the information in her head was true.

She should leave then. She should go. She'd only known him a couple of days, this wasn't the right time for her to be around. She could go back to the apartment, tell him to call her if he wanted company. Her stomach turned over nervously at the plan. That was exactly what she was going to do, but there was something she had to do first.

She'd never apologized to anyone. At least not since her mother had died, not that she could remember. But then again, she hadn't felt guilty before this moment either. It spoke volumes to how terrible what she'd said actually was. She could leave, but she had to apologize to him first, to say she was sorry for what she'd assumed, it was the right thing to do. Damn! Why couldn't she have some of that bravery she'd had when she asked him the question?! Then again, maybe that hadn't been bravery, maybe it was stupidity.

She rolled her eyes and pushed herself up off the wall. Just do it! All she had to do was walk into that room, say she was sorry, and tell him that if he wanted to be alone then she'd go back to the apartment. God, she hoped he wanted to be alone! She didn't know what she'd do if he didn't want her to go. There would be nothing to say, nothing to do, and frankly she didn't want to be reminded of the darkest point of her life by sitting beside him through his! She'd worked so hard to put her mother's death and everything that had followed behind her, the last thing she wanted was to have it all dragged out again from the locked safe box she kept in her mind. Maybe that's why she was feeling all these emotions she hadn't let herself feel in decades. Something about him had cracked that box open if only slightly. It threatened to expose her, it had exposed her last night, and right now she didn't want to be the person she'd put behind her. She wanted to be the person that had risen out of the ashes. And she was going to be that person again…just as soon as she apologized and got the hell out of here.

"Gold!" she called as she turned and walked back through the curtain. He'd set the rag on the far shelf and was still hunched over it as if paying homage. "Gold," she repeated, wondering if he'd heard her the first time. He turned his head slightly, acknowledging her presence, but still wouldn't look at her. She took a deep breath and tried not to look so guilty, standing there wringing her hands awkwardly. "I'm sorry I said that..." God, the words even tasted bad coming out. "It was stupid and…stupid," she rolled her eyes at her pathetic excuse for an apology. Although for the first apology she'd given in decades, with the exception of the repetitive words, it wasn't half bad. "If you want to be alone right now I can go back to the apartment and-"

"I'd prefer if you stayed here," he interrupted.

He was talking to her again. And he wanted her to stay instead of leave. Did that mean he forgave her? She still wasn't sure how she felt about not leaving, but at least he wasn't pushing her out like he'd been doing. Now the only question was what to do? The glasses of whiskey that she'd filled when she'd heard him come in jumped into her mind. Drinking was great for celebrations, but fortunately for them it was also perfect for those moments in life that were better off forgotten about.

"Well..." she cleared her throat, grabbed the glasses, and walked timidly to his side to offer it to him. "Do you want to talk about it?" God, she hoped not. She'd rather sit here in the silence than talk about "it". "Do you want to talk about what happened?" she clarified. Yes, what happened was a much safer discussion. Not completely of course, but if they talked about where he went after he'd left and how he'd found out about Neal, that would at least be better than focusing completely on the death. And if they started with him and backed into how Neal died, then maybe she'd be able to focus on Neal by the time they got there, and not her mother.

Gold looked at her. Finally, he looked at her! But it was a questioning glance as he looked her up and down, doing another double take. Her hand tightened around the glass she offered nervously. What? Was he going to yell at her? Ask her to leave? What?!

Suddenly he reached for the glass she held out to him and in a manner much more like her than him, he downed it in one gulp. She happily followed suit. If there was anything she needed to get through this it was going to be whiskey. She only wished they had more of it. They'd practically depleted the bottle he'd magically conjured, and she didn't have it in her to ask if he could do it again. She could always excuse herself for the Rabbit's Hole and pick up some more. But she thought that his request to stay was genuine. He wouldn't want her to leave.

So instead, she reached out and placed a hand awkwardly against his shoulder, for a nice, supportive, pat, then took the glass from him. Support was hard, especially when she was certain she'd never given hers before. But keeping the drinks flowing, now that was something she could do. He followed after her, silently of course while she figured out what to say first so that-

Suddenly the solid floor beneath them gave a violent unexpected jerk. She shrieked and did her best to reach for the table to keep her balance but found herself falling. "What the hell?!" she screamed as the cot suddenly caught her. The wood around them creaked, the floor rocked, the shelves shook, and a moment later just as she finally managed to hold on to the cot and keep her head from cracking against the wall everything went still.

The room was silent again, but now it was for a shock completely unrelated to the dark veil of grief. Her heart hammered, her breath was labored, and her body tingled with the aftermath of an unpleasant surprise. After a moment, when she was certain the floor wasn't going to fall out beneath her, she got up on shaky legs and pushed her hair back into place. She was alive, and whole, and didn't fear injured, but what in the world had just happened!

"What the bloody hell was that?!" she questioned, practically running to the locked back door, pulling down the blinds, and glancing out the window. Everything looked normal. A few people who had been outside when it happened where picking themselves up off the ground looking just as confused and unprepared as she had been for the action. She could hear cars in the distance and see a few of their lights flashing as their alarms went off.

She turned back to find Gold, realizing that she hadn't thought to look for him in the aftermath of the tremor. Had he fallen down too? No. He was right where she'd left him, standing against that table looking down into the glass he'd grabbed. He didn't seem shocked. He didn't even seem confused. If anything, he looked completely put together, and unsurprised. Was he? Was that possible? Was it just that next to the shock of losing his son this surprise simply didn't compare? Or was there another explanation? Why did she get the feeling that he didn't just know this would happen, he'd been prepared for it, or simply didn't care?

"What the hell just happened?" she questioned again, marching back to his side.

He calmly poured himself more of the whiskey. "Must have been an earthquake," he explained sadly, then tossed back the second glass. He was reaching for the bottle again but she pulled it away from him.

"An earthquake?" she questioned. "In Maine?" She might not have done that well in school but she wasn't an idiot. Earthquakes that powerful just didn't happen the Maine. And if they did, he, like the rest of the town, should look shaken and surprised. Even in the midst of greatest grief he should feel that! So why wasn't he?

"Stranger things have happened," he commented without emotion.

No, she knew that face! She might not have known it this morning, but now that he'd shown her magic, now that she knew he'd been hiding something from her she recognized what it was. He was keeping something from her again! Something about this. He didn't just expect it. He knew exactly what was happening, he just wasn't telling her. Only unlike the curious and frustrating feeling she'd gotten from it before, this feeling scared her, right down to the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right. Something was downright wrong. She just wished she had some idea of what it was this time. What could be more secret than magic?

"No," she shook her head searching his face, half expecting the answer to be written across his face. "No, you know what this is!"

"It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!" she shouted, forgetting about controlling her temper and the fact that he was grieving. "And the last time you told me it was 'nothing' the 'nothing' was magic!" she reminded him. She would have just loved to also tell him that the fact he had a son named Neal was another "nothing" that had happened today, but she had just barely enough restraint not to go there at the moment. Although if he said "nothing" to her one more time there was no telling what she'd do! She was trying. Caring wasn't something she was good at and it wasn't easy trying to be, but at least she was trying! He could at least try and answer her questions when she asked!

"Tell me!" she insisted. "You know what's going on, I can see it! Tell me what's happening!" He opened his mouth but then closed it again, and examined the empty glass in his hand as if it would give him answers. It was classic avoidance. She'd used that tactic herself many times, but she wasn't about to let it be used against her. "Gold!" she pulled the glass out of his hand and placed it back on the counter, then reached up and placed her hands against his cheeks, forcing him to meet her gaze whether he wanted to or not. "Tell me," she pleaded a bit more desperately. "Please, tell me what's going on."

He gave her a strange look. Sad. Defeated. Sympathetic. That was it! It was sympathetic and it was guilty. It was as if he felt bad for her for some reason. But why?! Why wouldn't he tell her?! She was about to start screaming again when he gave an overwhelmed sigh.

"What would you do?" he asked in a quiet whisper. "What would you do if you had less than a day to live?"

Her stomach dropped what felt like several stories as she released him as if she'd been burned.

Suddenly, she wished she hadn't asked at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the destruction brought on by the diamond has begun! Not much else to say about this chapter, pretty straight forward if you ask me. Hope you enjoyed it and I can't wait because we are nearing an end to Moments Missed and these last few chapters are among my favorites in this fiction! You've waited this long I'm sure you won't be disappointed with some of these!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	28. Not Nothing

What would you do if you had less than a day to live?

What the hell was that supposed to mean? She'd asked what was going on and he wanted to know what she'd do if she was going to die?! Was that supposed to explain things? Was that supposed to comfort her? It was the exact opposite of comforting. It was scary. It was terrifying. It was the worst thing that someone could say!

But as she opened her mouth to tell him exactly how she felt about those words, she heard the little bell in the front room go off, and the floor vibrated as what sounded like a horde of people came in using hushed voices. He glanced in the direction of the shop and then back to her as the door closed and she heard more whispers.

With an irritated sigh he grabbed his cane, moved out of her arms, and strode toward the curtain. She'd give him this much, he had a hell of a poker face! Despite losing his son, despite the ominous warning he'd just given her, he acted like nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

"A sure sign of impending doom," she heard him comment through the thin fabric, "looters."

She wished she hadn't listened, just like she wished she'd never asked that question. The idea of "impending doom" didn't exactly help that uncomfortable churning her stomach was doing.

"It ain't looting if the stuff you find's already yours," one of the "looters", a man, responded. So they knew what was happening too?! Was she the only one who didn't know?! Hoping her heels couldn't be heard from the front room, she moved closer to the curtain and strained her ears to hear what they were saying. The last time she'd eavesdropped she'd gotten the answers she wanted. Would that happen if she listened now? Would she come to find that there was some explanation? Some logical reason that would explain away what he'd just said? "We need Sneezy's drinking Stein," the man continued, "we can bring his memories back."

She heard him snort and whisper something too low to hear to the man. The crowd? He'd said "we" and she'd heard more than one set of footsteps shuffle into the store. How many were there? Was that why he was keeping his temper in check? Was he outnumbered or was he still just too overwhelmed from Neal's death to do anything? Wait! What had the man said? Something about memories? She moved closer to the curtain to hear better. What spell was taking place now? Who else had lost their memories?

"Mother Superior finally figured it out," that same man continued. "He needs to drink  _this_ out of his old stein, something that's important to him."

"So," he interrupted, "she found a solution to the memory problem, today, in the nick of time, before we all die!"

Her jaw dropped at the words. Die?! Did he just say die?! Everyone was going to die?! Everyone?! Surely this was a misunderstanding! Surely she was missing the logical part! The part that would make it all make sense! He couldn't be serious! They weren't all going to die! Were they? If there was some sort of danger on the way why was everyone just sitting back and waiting for it instead of getting the hell out of this place and running for safety?! Why were they looting the damn store instead of saving themselves?!

"Die?" another voice chimed in. "Who's dying?"

Was that...Tom Clark?! It must be! She couldn't see the stranger but she could hear him and the two shared that same nasally tone she recognized from when they'd spent the afternoon together at the bar! It had to be Clark!

"She's been working on it all along," the first man responded, ignoring Clark and the question she desperately wanted to understand. "Then when she had to transform August back to Pinocchio she found the ingredient she needed: a hair from Pinocchio's head, someone who returned to who he should be, someone who wasn't cursed!"

"So you're going to wake your friend up, to tell him he's about to die?" Gold countered.

"I don't want that!" Tom shouted.

"Shut it Clark!" the man yelled across the room. "He wants to know who he is and be with his family, no matter how much time he has left."

"I do not want to die!" Clark argued.

"Just take him to Granny's we'll do it there," the leader instructed whoever else was in the room. They must have listened because she heard the shuffle of feet move away from her. Tom complained the entire way, but she couldn't blame him! What the hell had she just heard?! Where they the only two sensible people in this whole, entire, damn town?!

She tried to pull herself together, to put the information she'd just heard into some sort of logical order. There had to have been a simple explanation for everything! For the earthquake. For the "impending doom" comment. For Tom Clark suddenly showing up in her life again confused as ever, just like she was! Surely he didn't mean everyone was going to die! He didn't sound one bit concerned. Did that mean he had a plan for them, that whatever was happening she was safe from, they were safe from? That was fine, but if something was going on she still wanted to know what it was! She still wanted to know what was happening. If something was happening, she wanted…to warn her father.

The realization hit her so hard it nearly knocked her off her feet and chased the current events from her mind. She never intended to see him again, true, but if something was going on, if something was coming and was going to kill everyone...she wanted her father to know about it and be some place safe. Sure, they didn't see eye to eye, but frankly, sometimes, most times, she and Gold didn't either. And just because she didn't agree with him didn't mean she wanted him dead! She'd already lost one parent, she didn't want to lose another one! No, she had to save her father. Whether she understood what was happening or not she had to be sure he was safe. But first...she had to know what was going on, to make sure that it really was as bad as he was making it out to be.

"I asked her to make a second dose," the voice of the leader came out of no where and she pulled her hand off the curtain quickly. She thought he'd gone with the rest of the group but apparently she'd been mistaken. Could she get more answers by listening?

"This is for you."

There was silence for a moment, which gave her time to figure out what they were talking about. It was the "this" that he'd mentioned earlier. The "this" that Clark was supposed to drink to bring back his memories. But why did Clark need his memories back? She'd met him, she'd talked to him, he had his memories! He'd described feeling confused and hazy, but that could easily be chalked up to not knowing about the magic in town. No, if that was true, it only gave her more questions than answers! How was it that the two of them had no idea about magic? How was he the only one of his friends that didn't know about the magic? And why had they called him Sneezy? A nickname? Maybe because of the allergy thing he'd mentioned?

She rubbed head as she finally heard Gold speak up. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Belle once helped remind me who I was," the stranger explained, bringing up the name of the person she was trying so hard to forget. Had he not gotten the news? She didn't need her memories returned, she already had them! And she wasn't Belle! She was Lacey! Hadn't word gotten around this small town yet?! She waited for the backlash, for him to point out his mistake to the strange man, maybe strike the cane against him or something else...but it never came. He only offered silence. "I've never forgotten," the man went on, "I wanna return the favor. Don't let her die as Lacey."

The words didn't just make her jaw drop again. This time she also gasped and had to quickly cover her mouth with her hands to keep from being heard. She'd been called Belle before, but never had she been called Belle and Lacey in the same sentence! What was the simple explanation for that? He knew who she was but was still calling her Belle like he was certain she was her!

Her chest suddenly began to heave up and down as she fought to catch her breath. She'd never had a panic attack before in her life, at least she couldn't remember having one, but she was pretty sure this was what they felt like! This was too much! There was too much happening today! It was barely past noon and already she'd been promised jewelry, met the son she never knew he'd had, learned there was such a thing as magic, that she could have all of her dreams, her future, she'd found out that his son, who had been perfectly healthy this morning, had died, there'd been an earthquake, and now…

She was Lacey! So why was someone who knew that still referring to her as Belle? And why the hell wasn't he correcting him?!

She needed an explanation! She needed it now and she needed it more than she felt she needed air in her lungs! But Gold didn't explain. The stranger didn't explain. He didn't say another word. There were only footsteps across a wooden floor and the chime of the bell as the stranger left the shop.

Her heart raced as she waited for Gold to come back in. No! No, she was sick of waiting, of being in the dark, of being confused. She had to know what was going on, she needed to know what they were talking about, what it meant. All of it! Maybe then, after she understood everything, if there really was something that was about to happen she and her father, and even Gold, stood a chance at whatever the hell storm was coming that only he seemed to have knowledge of!

She swallowed her panic, trying to at least appear calm and cool on the outside, trying to pretend like she hadn't just heard everything, and walked out into the store, glancing out the door for a glimpse of the stranger that had claimed Belle had helped him, that wanted to help her because of it. No, he was gone. But she was rewarded with a glimpse of Gold putting something in his pocket, and she didn't think it was just his hand. What was it? Had he taken what the person had given him? A potion? Like he'd shown her? Was that the "this" Clark was supposed to drink?

She looked him over, trying to identify his posture, what he was thinking, what he was feeling, something, anything! But she couldn't tell. He was a mystery to her right now. He was hiding behind some wall or other. And although she had a good idea of what he was hiding, she had no idea why he was doing it. Why wasn't he telling her, warning her, even preparing her for whatever was happening in town?! Why wasn't he explaining to her something that quite obviously affected her?! Why wasn't he bothering to give her a fighting change?!

"What was all that about?" she prompted, hoping it was all a mistake, that maybe he hadn't heard her come in, that he'd reveal everything to her, and it would turn out that it wasn't as bad as she thought.

"Oh, it's nothing," he muttered before moving around her and leaving her once again without answers.

She felt her emotions begin to snap, her tolerance for that word flee. But, then, suddenly, before she had time to really get upset or angry, before her head could decide whether it wanted to pound or spin with the information, she felt it again. It didn't come out of nowhere this time and she let experience prepare her for it. It was light vibrations, like a small warning at first, but then gave over to tugs and jerks as violent as the first one had been. She reached out for the counter and held on as the shop began to sway and tremble again. She held on for dear life to remain upright until the quake passed. Two? In one day? In Maine?!

This wasn't nothing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for London Bridge to fall down? It might seem like Grumpy confirming to Gold that Lacey and Belle are one would be the nail in the coffin but I assure you the best is yet to come! three more chapters left and this next one is my second favorite in this fiction. I hope that you'll enjoy it as much as I did and prepare yourself for my favorite. It's epic!
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	29. Living a Lie

It was getting worse. She hadn't timed the original tremor but she was positive that this one was lasting longer than the original had. At least she succeeded at remaining upright this time. It took all her strength, but some how she managed to hold onto the counter top as she waited for the floor to still again. But it still seemed to vibrate long after the bigger tremors had died away. Aftershocks? Yes, it was definitely getting worse. Just as the rattling and creaking stopped, ear piercing screams suddenly reached her ears, drowning out the empty silence in the shop. Drawn by them, she moved around the counter quickly to the front door and peered out the window to investigate.

For the second time in less than five minutes her jaw dropped and she let out a disbelieving gasp. Oh God, what was she seeing?! Was she hallucinating? She almost hoped she was! There was no other explanation for it! There were trees springing up in the middle of the street! Full grown trees piercing the pavement and growing stories high and thick as a car in a matter of seconds! And the library tower, the place she'd woken up this morning, was suddenly crawling with vines and moss. It was nearly covered! It was as if the forest was taking over, reclaiming the town!

How was this possible?! Was this magic? Did he do this? Or were others in this town that could also do magic?! God, it was like...it was like...

Her stomach turned at the phrase that popped into her skull. It was like the world was ending. Frightened tears gathered in her eyes as she stared at the terrible sight in front of her. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be what she thought it was.

There were people running up the street, scared, maybe just as terrified as she was, even a couple that looked like they were coming to his shop. For help? Or were they an angry mob? On instinct she quickly pulled the shade down and turned the little lock with a snick, moments before she heard a crash on the other side of the door. She stepped away slowly, her panic raising again as she stared at the locked door, imagining what was going on outside of it, wondering what would happen if they managed to break the window and get it. It made her stomach turn. Where was her father? Was he okay? Could she find him? Even if she could what good would it do, she still had no idea what was going on!

That was it! Enough was enough! She'd played gentle and kind when he came back because his son was dead but the stakes were higher now. Magic wasn't power in this situation, information was. And if he had information that could help her and her father, or anyone else in town, then he was going to give it. The time for backing into truths and carefully chosen words was over, and now, it was time to be as blunt as possible and get answers no matter how high the cost!

She turned on her heel and stormed back to the curtain. Hell, she pulled it aside with such force she thought she heard a seam rip somewhere. "The town is turning into a forest!" she shouted. "There are people running in the streets, earthquakes, trees in the middle of the road, and you're sitting back here telling me that nothing is going on! Nothing is not going on! Something is happening and I want to know what it is right now! If you won't tell me then I'll leave and find someone else who will!"

"I was trying to protect you," he muttered staring into his glass, "make it easier."

"Protect me from what?! Make what easier?! If some disaster is on the way then I need to know so that I can protect myself, so that I can protect my father! The only thing I need from you, Mr. Gold, is the truth!"

He opened his mouth but then closed it again as he sighed and shook his head. Fine. She would have loved to have evaluated that gesture but there was no time, and she had no patience! Forget stopping someone to ask what was going on she was just going to find her father and get the hell out of this strange town!

"Bastard," she muttered before turning her back on him intending to leave.

"The town isn't turning into a forest!" he shouted after her, making her stop in her tracks. "The town is a forest."

She turned back to see that he hadn't moved from this spot against the table. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He sighed and looked her over sadly, like he was begging her not to make him tell her. But dammit she was sick of this game.

"Look, Mr. Gold, either you start talking, and making sense, not riddles, or I'm gone! Belle may have tolerated this bullshit but I've told you before that I'm not her. Last chance, what the hell is happening in this bloody town?!"

He sighed again, but this time instead of shaking his head he nodded slowly, as if in resignation, and his shoulders slumped forward in defeat. If she weren't so desperate and the situation so messed up, she'd have yelled "victory!" "Magic," he began finally, "doesn't belong in this realm, and it doesn't exist outside of Storybrooke. That's the reason you've never heard of it, the reason no one wanted to tell you about it."

She looked him up and down. Well, he wasn't lying, that much was obvious. But what did any of this have to do with what was going on in town? She crossed her arms over her chest, letting him know she still wasn't happy with him for keeping it secret so long, but moved closer. "Go on."

"You are familiar with the tale of Snow White?"

"And the seven dwarves?" she asked suspiciously with her eye brow raised. "What's that got to do with anything."

"Everything," he snapped. "It has everything to do with what's happening, with what's happened. You knew it once you just don't remember."

"I remember...just fine," she spat back through a clenched jaw.

"So, what if I told you it was true?" Gold went on, as if he hadn't heard her outburst. "All of it. The Prince. The dwarves. The apple. True loves kiss," he glanced away from her with a distant look again. Bloody man was a lunatic.

"I'd say you've lost your bloody mind and I'm outta here. It's a fairy tale, Mr. Gold. Fairy tales don't exist!"

"Just like magic doesn't exist," he countered quickly before she could turn her back again. "Just like spells, and potions, and balls of fire can't possibly exist."

Her stomach gave an unnerving roll in her gut. Dammit! He had a point. And so far, everything he'd told her, no matter how difficult it had been to pull out of him, turned out to make more sense than nonsense in the end. It was a stretch, but she stayed still and nodded.

"So what if I believe it's true, like you say. What does it have to do with what's happening outside?"

"Everything," he repeated. "The story you know is only half the story. A fairly unimportant part actually. What really matters is what happened after Prince Charming woke Snow White from her deep sleep. Her curse."

She should have known this wouldn't have been an easy answer. She couldn't help but feel like he was just letting precious time waste away, but if the town was dying and they all knew it, who else was going to explain anything to her? Crazy as it seemed, she wanted to listen to his story, she did want to understand, if only so she could fight whatever this was better! She just hoped it wouldn't take too much time.

"Fine," she surrendered. "What happened after Snow White woke up," she prompted in a sarcastic tone.

He looked her over for a second, acknowledging her hostile posture, but seemed to think nothing of it as he began. "Well, naturally The Evil Queen was furious. She'd wanted revenge on the girl for so long she couldn't go on unless the Princess and her Prince Charming were miserable. But it seemed like the only way to make the Princess pay was to separate her from her true love, and, unfortunately for her, they had…an unnerving habit, you could say, of finding each other again no matter what she threw at them.

"She knew that if she wanted to get her revenge, truly take away Snow White's happy ending, she needed more than just a sleeping curse. She needed a curse much more powerful than that. A curse that would be so hard to break it was nearly impossible. A curse that would transport everyone to another realm where magic didn't exist, a curse that would destroy everyone's memory, everyone's lives, and in the process destroy all happy endings except her own. The curse that she just so happened to be looking for was carefully prepared for her by a Dark Wizard for his own purposes, and in the possession of...lets call her a friend of the Queens. She promptly stole it back with the intention to cast it."

Okay. She wasn't sure she believed, but she was tracking so far. Anger made people want to do crazy things. Revenge was one of them. Fairy tale character or not, real or not, she could certainly understand the story so far. But her patience was wearing thin. At what point did all of this start to make sense? What did this story have to do with the forest sprouting up around them! Couldn't he just get to it already?!

"The Queen unleashed her curse on everyone in the land and it was everything she hoped it would be. Easily the most powerful curse known to any creature, seemingly unstoppable, and as planned the people were all ripped from their land and brought here," he gestured around him to the small shop with that beastly smile she used to find attractive, "to Storybrooke, Maine."

Seriously? Here? He wanted her to believe the Evil Queen, as in Snow White's evil step mother, was here in Storybrooke? Right. He was a lunatic! Insane! It was crazy even for someone with her history! It was…

But then her eyes fell upon the black bag still sitting upon the table. And she recalled the conversation she'd overheard, the one that led up to the introduction of that bag. The names! The names she'd thought he might have been using as code or as a joke suddenly they all came back to her with remarkable clarity...and new meaning.

" _But tell me,_ " he'd said " _why would the Charmings want to help the Evil Queen?_ "

The Charmings? As in Prince Charming?

And the woman, the one that had helped her the night she lost herself, her hair was shorter than the books made it out to be but it had certainly been black as ebony and her skin had been pale, but not in a sickly way, she'd been beautiful.

Black hair. White skin. Handsome Prince Charming. Oh, God...

That was the story, wasn't it?! Which meant that…

He was telling the truth?

No. No, simply not possible! He couldn't really be telling the truth!

But even as she thought about it as impossible more and more suddenly seem to fall into place.

The Charmings, they'd said they wanted to help Regina, he'd said 'The Evil Queen'.

Regina! The mayor was the Evil Queen?!

Yes, that was one way to get a happy ending. But then...well, that had to make him…the Dark Wizard he'd mentioned. The one who had crafted the curse she'd used.

"So you're…"

"The Dark One," he responded obediently, picking up on her train of thought, "Rumpelstiltskin."

Rumpelstiltskin? The imp from the German fairy tale? The one that wanted a woman to guess his name? The one that tore himself in two when she guessed right? That Rumpelstiltskin?! The one that…

Her eyes wandered over to the spinning wheel she'd spotted in the corner of room. The one that spun straw into gold. Gold. As in Mr. Gold. And the Charmings…Snow White and her Prince. If no one belonged here, if no one was who they thought they were...it sounded crazy, and she hated to admit it...but it made sense. It made sense to her.

It made sense why Nike had called Kimberly Drizella.

It made sense why the strange voice had called Clark Sneezy and-

Oh, God…the height, the allergies. Sneezy. One of the seven dwarves?! It. Made. Sense?

Her thoughts felt like they were splitting off into a million different directions, gathering from the farthest corners of her mind everything she'd observed, everything that never seemed to add up in her mind, even the smallest of hints that things weren't right. Suddenly it all began to put itself together, like she'd just been given the missing piece to a puzzle and it made the picture completely clear.

She felt dizzy, her head was pounding, to the point where she felt nauseous. She needed a drink. She needed a drink right now, but she didn't think she had it in her to hobble over to the table and fill her glass again.

"Lacey," she heard his voice but it seemed thicker, hazier, through the hammering in her skull. If she didn't know any better it was as if her brain didn't want her to know this information. But she pushed through, trying not to let him see how utterly perplexed and shocked she was. How scared.

"So, everyone in this town-"

"Is from a place called the Enchanted Forest," he went on. "And the occasional odd realm." Other realms. There were other bloody realms! She didn't even want to open that can of worms! "It hurts, doesn't it? Your head?"

How did he know that? She was certain that she wasn't revealing the pounding in any way. "It's just a headache," she explained away. "It's a lot to take in."

"Oh, it's more than that, dearie," he whispered, almost too quietly to hear. She watched as he waved his hand over the near empty bottle of whiskey and it magically refilled itself again. He poured more of the amber liquid into a glass and brought it over to her, but he only handed it to her after waving his hand over it first. It glowed purple for a second before returning to its amber color. "That will help," he murmured handing it over to her.

She snatched it out of his hand, desperate for relief, and chucked it back all at once. The moment she swallowed it, she had the strangest sensation that it wasn't going to her stomach but up into her head. A warm tingling sensation spread across the parts of her skull that pounded. He was right. It didn't eliminate the pain. But it helped. It helped enough that she could follow him over to the table and stand beside him, use it to prop herself up as she took in the fact that in one short day, nearly everything she'd been raised to believe was myth and lore…was real. For God's sake she was standing next to Rumpelstiltskin!  _The_  Rumpelstiltskin!

"Better?" he asked as a minute passed. Better? Well, in a manner of speaking maybe? Her head didn't hurt as much. She didn't feel dizzy anymore. She finally felt like her heart was slowing and she could keep air in her lungs. But the distant screams that she still heard from outside were a constant reminder. No, it wasn't better! She knew the truth. And the truth was…well…it would be bloody incredible, if it weren't for the fact that the place she lived in was turning back into a forest again?! He hadn't explained that! They were in a town based on fairy tales and magic. So was that it? Was the magic ending? Wearing off? Had a clock struck mid-night somewhere?

"Why is this happening?" she choked out. "If this curse is so powerful then why is the town turning back into a forest? If the curse took away everyone's memories then why do you know what happened? And what's going to happen to me? To you? To everyone?" What about her father?

"Well, the curse is powerful dearie, but all curses can be broken. This one, for instance was broken some time ago," he explained almost too easily for the dire situation. "Until that day came the people of this town were trapped here, in Storybrooke unable to leave, unable to remember who they really were, unable to have their happy endings.

"But, as with most curses, the power of true loves kiss broke the spell. Or partially at least. Snow found her Prince Charming. Lovers were reunited. All was as it should be."

"But it wasn't," she interrupted. "You said it was only partially broken. What went wrong?"

He gave her an impressed sort of look, like she'd correctly picked up on the one key element he'd set before her. "No one could leave town," he answered obediently. "Anyone who set foot outside of Storybrooke's town line forgot all over again and reverted back to their cursed selves."

"But you left," she pointed out, proud that she was keeping up, proud that it was making sense to her, even the little bit that she remembered from the hospital. "You left town, I remember you saying you were going."

"And it wasn't easy I assure you. But it's not important," he added "turns out it was all for nothing in the end. Just as I always feared it would be," he murmured sadly. What did that mean? What happened when he left town? Why had he left? And how, if they'd all been brought here from the same land during the curse, had Neal only just arrived? "It's of no matter now," he continued on without giving her a moment to ask her questions.

"It appears Regina, the Evil Queen, had something up her sleeve. A trigger. A self destruct device. Something that will undo all that she'd done here. If she can't be happy then no one will be. The ultimate act of vengeance…It appears some strangers in town, Greg and Tamara," he clarified with an angry snarl, "managed to get it from her and activate it. Turn the town back into the forest it was. Kill everything and everyone that wasn't born in this land," he sighed.

His voice trailed off but suddenly hope flared to life in her. "But then I can go!" she exclaimed, feeling suddenly relieved. She wasn't trapped here, she wasn't going to die, she could escape! He watched her darkly for a moment. "I-I was born in this world, I don't have to stay! I can leave! I can get a car," she plotted urgently, "I can get my father, and go before the town is destroyed! We can..." she stopped when she finally glanced over at his face.

He looked pitifully at her, like he had the unfortunate task of telling her that her best friend in the world was dead. He hesitated, then after a long pause, when her stomach was twisting into knots at his silence, he shook his head. "It would do you no good," he whispered in a grave voice.

"But…" the look in his eyes was all the rebuttal to her argument she needed. Nothing she would say could disprove him. His face was solemn, and his eyes seemed to beg her to think about his words, to remember what he'd said, and put it together herself so that he wouldn't have to. But it didn't make sense to her.

"No. No, it can't be," she explained. They would all die. They hadn't been born here. She had! She could live, couldn't she? She didn't belong here! Surely she wasn't one of these characters he kept talking about. She hadn't always lived here! She could remember that clearly. "I remember!" she insisted once more. "I wasn't born here! I was born in Australia! I remember Australia. I remember-"

"Do you?" he asked gently with a small shake of the head, small but powerful enough to stop her tirade in its tracks. "Magic always has its fatal flaws. Don't think about what you remember, think about what you should remember but don't. Think about what you remember, but doesn't belong."

She shook her head. What was that supposed to mean? She could remember. She. Could. Remember. She could remember Australia. She could remember the ocean. She remembered how much she'd loved to swim in it...but she couldn't remember ever actually swimming. Her head ached as she thought harder about it and she did her best to make sense of her thoughts.

There it was, she could see it in her head! Her mind played an image of a foaming sea crashing into the beach again and again.

But when she tried to remember it from another angle, or being on the beach, or in it, or on a surf board…she couldn't. She knew she'd done all those things, but the memories were missing.

No. It couldn't be.

She tried again.

She could remember her mother, she could remember having long, fun, meaningful conversations with her…

But she couldn't remember the words. She couldn't remember the moment. She could remember having conversations, she knew that she had, but why couldn't she picture the moment she'd had it?! Why did she get a headache trying to think about it? She remembered wanting to treasure everything her mother said after she'd found out she was going to die, so why weren't the memories in her head?! There was just a blurry image of a woman laying in a bed with a friendly face smiling at her!

She tried, she begged her mind, to force the image to do something and not just lie there with that same drowsy grin! She didn't need for it to be perfect she just wanted a clearer memory, a realistic memory. A twitch of the jaw. An image with a different hair style. Or different clothes…but she couldn't.

She tried to think of the last words she had said…she them in her head, she knew what they were beyond a shadow of a doubt.

But that memory too was missing.

How was that possible? How would she have forgotten such a crucial, emotional memory! How could she have forgotten something so important?!

It wasn't possible.

Unless…

Unless she'd never had the experience.

Unless she believed his story.

Unless she wasn't who she thought she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! I love this chapter! I'm sorry for the length and for the choppiness of it but that was done in an attempt to put you in Lacey's mind, jumping from one thing, one fact, to another quickly! It's also meant to show that when she accepts his story everything falls so perfectly into place that it almost has to be true. So...I'm dying to know, how do you like this chapter. Do you love it like I do? Because if you do I have to say that the next chapter, in my opinion is not just my favorite in this fiction but one of my favorites in all of Moments series, easily in my top ten favorite chapters? Are you excited? I am. 
> 
> You know in a way I too will be sad when this fiction is over. Don't get me wrong, I haven't shifted into a Golden Lace fan, but when I started this fiction I think I thought it was going to be a pain because of how much I disliked Lacey. Now that we're at the end I have found that writing for her as given me a sense of peace about her and her arc. It doesn't make me like her, but it makes me understand her and I hope you feel the same too! Peace and Happy Reading!


	30. Skin Deep

"So..." she asked with a trembling voice "If I'm not…me..." she said slowly, not believing the words coming out of her own mouth. She didn't want it to be true, she didn't want to die, but instead of sounding crazy as it should have, she had to admit, the story he'd told her made everything in her life make sense. This chunk of her life, everything since that night, had been wrong somehow, off. Maybe not in an obvious way, but certainly in little ways. Perhaps that was why she'd been able to ignore it for so long.

It was the strangest thing. Once upon a time, those memories, the ones she'd been told were hallucinations, obviously hadn't been real because they weren't consistent with the life she was living. Now it was as if everything had changed. It wasn't the hallucinations that didn't connect with her life, it was her life that didn't connect to the hallucinations. Everything was backwards. Memories that she'd once used to disprove the hallucinations now felt as though they were disproved by the hallucinations.

She remembered walking along the road that night. She remembered being alone on the side of it! So why was her first memory of being in the middle of the road with him?!

Because she hadn't been walking alone on the side of the road that night.

They'd told her she'd been hit by a car, so why was her first memory of that night of car lights driving toward her after she'd lost her memories, of being lowered to the ground, already injured, of a man with fire in his hand?!

Because there had never been any car, at least none that had hit her.

And if she'd hit her head why did she remember having a small wound to her shoulder, consistent with the gun the man-in-black had been holding?!

Because, crazy as it seemed, she hadn't hallucinated it. If everything else had been real then she could only assume the man-in-black was real too. She'd been shot and he'd healed her.

And then there was the hospital, the questions she couldn't answer because she was only now just beginning to admit that she didn't know the story as well as she thought she did. Why had everyone come looking for her? Why had Belle mysteriously vanished and left everyone to confuse her for the woman at the same time she'd been hospitalized. It wasn't just him that had called her by the stranger's name and claimed to know her: Ruby, the nurses, the doctors, they'd all used that same name! And Greg Mendell. She'd nearly forgotten about his visit. He'd come to see her, and she'd gotten such a terrible feeling that she'd wanted to put that talk far away from her her mind. But, uncomfortable as it had been, he'd told her that he had seen magic too!

Even when she'd left the hospital things weren't right. Misty, the woman she'd worked with, had acted like she'd never seen her a day in her life. She'd ignored it at the time, but she'd ignored a lot since then. And Granny had mistaken her for Belle as well! And Keith! He'd mentioned that he thought she and Gold were involved. And he'd mentioned something about her and Gold being "close...before all this". He'd mentioned a previous encounter they'd all had, on a road, one that he couldn't forget if he'd tried.  _"But only if I was cursed,"_ he'd said with a laugh, a joke she didn't understand at the time. A joke she couldn't understand because she hadn't had all the information.

Oh God.

She remembered now. And it made sense. All of it. Including the way he'd freaked out when she'd asked him about the town line.  _"You crossed the town line"_ he'd asked.  _"I don't know!"_ she'd answered honestly.  _"Maybe, I suppose."_ That same town line that he'd just told her no one could cross. The one that, if they did, took away the memories of that person's past and left them with nothing. Just as she'd had nothing in her head the first night she remembered clearly.

Her stomach turned and her headache pounded again at the thought. Was she really believing this? Believing his story? Was she really considering that despite the past she now knew she had in her head, she might not be…her? She was Lacey! She knew who she was! But did she really believe that now? Did she believe it with her whole heart and soul that she was…herself?

It made her feel crazy again, like when she'd been in the hospital, but suddenly she wasn't so sure. How strange! She knew who she was, but she felt like her identity was shallow somehow, only skin deep. Was there a reason for it? Was it possible that she had been closer to herself when she was in the hospital than she was now? She had once trusted him, when she had no other memories, no friends, no clues. It hadn't been easy at first but by the time Regina had come for a visit she had trusted him to show her who she was and give her answers. She'd trusted he would bring her back. Could she trust him to do that again? Could he still provide the answers he had once promised?

"If I'm not...me..." she repeated, suddenly aware that there were tears in her eyes, "who am I?"

He looked at her with sympathy again, then averted his eyes and searched the work table, as if he could find the words he was looking for, the answers just sitting there for him in a book she could read. Instead, he picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured her a plentiful amount almost as if it was a medicinal dose. That didn't particularly make her feel better. Was it that bad? Was she? She swallowed the burning liquid down and when she set the glass down again he poured her more. She didn't drink it this time, she was saving it for when she might need it.

"Once..." he began, pouring himself a glass and resealing the bottle, "there was a woman, a princess, and though she had everything her heart desired she was never spoiled, selfish, or unkind. She was beautiful, but her true value was not found on the surface. She was smart and considerate, compassionate to everyone she met. She dreamt of bravery, of grand heroics, and mysterious adventures. She longed for them day after day, but the rest of the world saw her only as a beautiful girl, believing her to be incapable of making her own choices, to them she was a pawn to be used in their games, a valuable chess piece. She was caged and she knew it. The only thing she ever truly wanted was her freedom, to make her own path in the world, for everyone to see her for who she truly was and not who they thought she should be."

She knew the feeling well. Her hazy memories recalled how trapped she had felt every day when she had walked into her father's house and he demanded she follow a path that wasn't for her. She'd wanted so much more than he had planned for her, but he wasn't able to see it. It wasn't bad, she wasn't mistreated or abused, but she'd lived her life in a nightmare. Trapped. Every day. All she'd really wanted was her freedom as well.

Gold looked her over and, determining that she was listening, he went on. "One day, the woman's village found itself in a terrible predicament and the only one that could save them was a terrible dark monster. But the beast never did anything without getting something in return and against the wishes of those around her, the princess lowered herself to the ignoble status of a maid and went with the beast to serve him for an eternity. In paying her father's debt, she traded one cage for another.

"Her master was a cruel man, selfish, he delighted in watching others squirm, in being more powerful than those that he helped. But his identity was a well crafted delicate persona, one that he'd painstakingly constructed over the years. He had secrets, he kept people at a distance, and he never truly cared about anyone but himself and his own plans. Yet the woman intrigued him. She didn't fear him, stood up to him when others cowered, and, though she was imprisoned, she seemed to take joy in her work. She took the worst of the pitiful situation the monster had put her in and turned it into something good for herself, and, much to his surprise, for him as well.

"He'd never seen such happiness in a sad place, he'd never heard such truthful words, and he'd never felt anything so warm as the inner light her soul seemed to radiate. She was beautiful, but he began to see that it wasn't just on the outside. Her greatest gift was making a terrible world tolerable and even peaceful. It was a peace that he began to crave more than air in his lungs. He began to crave her, he just didn't realize it."

He paused and hunched over the table as if the story pained him in some way she couldn't understand.

"And?!" she asked, realizing how desperate her voice had come out. She couldn't help it, she was hooked. She'd seen a dozen movies like the story he was telling her but this one seemed so much more real, so much more intense. And she knew that things didn't always work out like they did in the movies. Terrible things could happen to good people! What did the monster do to this radiant woman? Did he hurt her? Did he kill her? Or would she get an ending exactly like in the movies? An ending she deserved?

"Much to the monsters surprise, the feelings were mutual and she fell in love with him," he answered with a scratchy voice, the kind she had when she was trying to hold back tears. "Despite everything, she loved him. She tried to help him, but the monster out of fear rejected her over and over again. Yet the woman wasn't easily swayed, and each time her love for him grew stronger because she saw in him what others didn't, what he couldn't bear to see in himself. She didn't just change him into the person he was before, she transformed him into something new, completely different. Something better.

"And when the beast finally realized what was happening to him, what she was making him feel, he panicked. He cowered behind the power he had so eagerly collected and banished the woman from his life for his own protection, despite all the excuses he convinced himself of...despite the fact that he knew he loved her too.

"But because he'd rejected her, he allowed her to become an easy target for those that wanted to hurt him. He believed she was dead and went on with his life, pretending as though nothing had changed. And she became a prisoner once more, only this time with shackles and chains. A real cage. And he never knew such regret in his life, than the terrible mistake he knew he'd made."

How horrible! How unfair! First, she had risked everything for a village that never allowed her to be who she really was. Then, she had tried her best to help a creature that no one ever helped! And all it got her was tossed into a cell for his sake. No! That was unacceptable. This was nothing like the movies she'd ever watched. This wasn't like real life. It was worse.

But the very worst part was, underneath her shock and devastation for the woman, she actually found herself feeling sorry for the monster! The beast he'd described might have been the most pitiful being on the face of the earth. It was like he had a dreadful disease that garnered sympathy and attention, the woman had been the cure and he had rejected that cure only to hold on to the sympathy and attention. What a terrible, hallow, empty fate he'd chosen for himself!

"Well..." she urged, desperately wanting to hear an ending of some kind. It had to end happily in some way! At least she hoped it would. She was still alive wasn't she?! So the woman didn't end up with the prince and a kingdom of her own. Any ending that didn't include that jail cell would be happy in her mind. "What happened to her? Did she escape? Did he ever find out she was alive?"

A small smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "He did," he told her almost happily but with a slightly ominous tone. "He did find out. She escaped and she came for him. The kind of love the two of them had was not easily killed and she was not easily defeated. She returned to him and granted him a second chance many would argue that he didn't deserve."

She felt herself smile, maybe this story did get a happy ending after all. How bad could it really be if they found each other again? If the beast allowed her back into his life?

"So how's it end?" she prodded gently.

He gave a small snort and his reminiscent smirk disappeared. Unexpectedly he lifted the glass to his mouth and tossed back what was in it. She'd been so drawn into the story she had completely forgotten that he'd poured them more to drink. She hadn't needed it like she thought she would. At least not until she remembered why he was telling it to her.

"It doesn't," he answered, before she could dwell upon her previous thought. "The story doesn't end. It goes around and around in an endlessly predictable but always amazing circle. The beast can't bear to lose her again, so he tries to be the man she sees, the man she deserves, but he is incapable and falls again and again. Yet time after time she continues to love him, though he can't imagine what he's done to deserve her favor. She gives him chance after chance. She never leaves his side, despite what the world thinks of him and her by association. She stays with him, she loves him, and supports him, until one terrible night the woman loses herself in yet another attempt to help him.

"He knows that he's the only one that can help her," he whispered in a dark final voice, "and he wants desperately to be the saving grace that she once was to him. But he fears that the darkness in himself has cursed them both, and without her doesn't know what is right or wrong anymore. His greatest fear is that they will die together but still be utterly alone."

Tears fill her eyes. Tears. Real tears. God, she couldn't remember the last time she'd cried! It had been...

At the hospital! Suddenly she realized that this wasn't the first time she'd heard the story, and it wasn't the first time she'd been moved to tears by it either. He'd told it to her just once before and in much simpler terms. When she'd been in the hospital, when he had been dying and she had no clue of who he was, or who she was.  _"You are a hero,"_  he'd informed her, _"Who helped your people. You're a beautiful woman, who loved an ugly man. Really, really, loved me. You find goodness in others, and when it's not there, you create it. You make me want to go back. Back, to the best version of me, and that never happened before. So when you look in the mirror, and you don't know who you are,_ that's  _who you are! Thank you, Belle."_

She wasn't normally an emotional person. She wasn't normally one to be courted or wooed, hell, she wasn't the girlfriend type she didn't even date, but even she could remember the beautiful words he'd said to her, clear as day. Confused as she'd been, they had been a flicker of light amidst the ocean of darkness that her life had become, if only briefly. A woman without memories or a woman with them, the words made her cry then, and they made her want to cry now.

"The woman's name..." she swallowed trying to get rid of the lump in her throat, trying not to cry as everything suddenly fell perfectly into place, and she realized that what she'd denied from the first memory she had was the truth. "It's Belle, isn't it?" The pain in her head peaked again, not liking the discovery she'd made. Maybe that should have been all the proof she needed. Still, she watched him carefully, to see if he'd say anything about her assumption. He didn't respond. He didn't say a word, and that was confirmation enough. It was such a strange thing to think about, a strange possibility to believe in, but she found herself trusting it more than she ever trusted in anything else.

The memories of the life she had in her head, real as they seemed, didn't fit into the life that she could clearly remember living since the "accident". The memories of her life just didn't seem deep enough, only superficial, like a bad patch job on dry wall. The only way anything in this world, in this town, made any sense was if she rejected what she'd tried so hard to believe since that first night on the road, and accepted what she'd lived since then. It only worked if she took a leap of faith to believe that all his stories about curses, and princesses, and monsters are true. And if they were true...

He was the man. The beast from his story. It was his past that he'd told her about.

And she didn't just bear a striking resemblance to the woman named Belle.

She was Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so London Bridge has fallen down. Well, did you like it? I love this chapter. Hearing this story in Rumple's words is just...ah! For the record, I get asked if I will ever write Moments from Rumple's POV and the answer is yes, some day I hope to. But not now. Now I stick with Belle because even if she is a main character she's a minor main character and fairly easy to write for. Rumple...not so much. I'm going to have to wait until the series is over to tackle his story and I do mean tackle because it's a crazy story! Not to mention crazy long! But until then I hope that this little gem satisfies you like it does me. ::Sigh:: Love it.
> 
> Peace and Happy Reading!


	31. Having No Future

"So, I'm..." her voice trailed off and she swallowed, too overwhelmed to go on. She couldn't bring herself to say the name. She couldn't even believe that she really and truly believed everything that he was saying, everything that he told her about Storybrooke, about him, about Belle.

About her.

She couldn't figure out what to do with herself. Her emotions, her thoughts were nothing but a train wreck. She wanted to scream! How could this have happened to her?! How could everything she'd known, everything that she'd ever been, just be stripped away from her in one moment! Was any of it true? Had she ever lived in Australia? Was her father real? Was her mother? Was any of it real?

Yes, something was real! The memories might not have been true, but the emotions had been. She could remember not feeling complete, not feeling right. She remembered thinking, not just in her false memories but the ones that she'd had after she'd lost herself, that something had been missing and she'd been unable to find it. Was it him? Was that what she'd felt? Was it possible that the love he'd described to her was strong enough that she still had an echo of it? A small physical response of missing him even when she didn't know him?

"Were..." she searched her mind, trying to get it to hurry up and finish processing everything that had happened this afternoon so it could function and find the words she needed for this moment. "Were we happy?" she asked, watching him continue to stare down into his glass.

He gave a heavy sigh, but still refused to meet her gaze. Was it painful for him too? Had they been that close that being away from her, the real her, hurt him too much to look at her. "We…had our problems," he muttered quietly.

"Who doesn't?" she added without a second thought. She could remember her mother and father fighting, but they had been perfectly happy…if they'd even existed anywhere outside her head. She could even remember her mother telling her once after an all out screaming match with her father that it was okay, because people fought the hardest for the things they loved the most, the ones they loved most. Although she supposed none of that memory was real either.

He smirked at her answer, and though he'd done it before, the action looked different all of a sudden. It was the first time she'd seen anything close to a genuine smile on his face, and it came from memories of Belle, of her-but not her. "Yes," he nodded suddenly. "We had our problems...but we were happy. We made each other happy."

Part of her was angry but another part of her just wanted to cry, for what the mayor, Regina, had taken not just from her, but from him as well. What must he really think of her then? Did he hate her? Did he see her as a demon, a soul that had invaded and taken away the spirit of the person he truly loved? "Very happy," he breathed quietly, almost as an afterthought. But she could see his mind was far away. He wasn't with her, he was with… _her_!

She reached for her drink and drained the cup. Whatever he'd given her earlier wasn't strong enough, or it was wearing off, because she was getting a headache again. Then again maybe this one didn't come from knowledge of the curse, as she suspected, maybe this one was a genuine pain brought on by the situation. It was confusing. It was overwhelming. It was unbelievable, upsetting, irritating, and about a million other emotions, words that couldn't even begin to describe the way she was really feeling!

Suddenly a loud crashing noise burst through the silence and the floorboards beneath their feet vibrated. It wasn't nearly as bad as it had been with the earthquakes, but she got the feeling that something, somewhere close by had just been destroyed, or something was beginning to dismantle the shop. The world was closing in around them. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide, no safe place, no shelter, or father, or mother...or life!

She had to fight harder to keep her tears back this time. She wouldn't need to worry much longer, she wouldn't feel this way when the destruction of the town was complete. She wouldn't feel anything. She'd be...

It wasn't fair! She'd had a happy and full life and she imagined that if she had memories of that life, she might be able to die peacefully. Instead she was doomed to die without a memory of the crimes she'd committed to deserve this fate. It was cruel.

But before she could surrender to panic, the earth stilled, the crashing sounds gave way to shrieks of panic and fear, but the two of them managed to stay right where they'd been. She didn't move. She didn't even try to escape. What was the point? When she glanced at him she figured he might have had the same idea. Powerful as he was, he wasn't making any effort to leave, or stop what was happening, which she could only assume meant that he couldn't. So this was it then. This was how her life would end?

As if he could sense her thoughts he suddenly uncorked the bottle and poured them another drink. "To the end of the world," he muttered under his breath. She could tell that he meant it to be a joke, but she couldn't for the life of her understand how it was funny. It was the exact opposite of funny! It was a terrible joke. And instead of making her want to laugh or even easing some of the tension in the room it only made her more nervous and scared. It only made her want to break down into tears. Why did he need to say those words?! Hadn't she already lost enough? Did he really need to remind her of what was happening outside of these walls? "Come on," he encouraged when she didn't reach for the elixir he was offering. "It'll help numb it."

"I'll, uh..." she hesitated, for the first time since she'd turned twenty-one she wondered if she should refuse the drink. None of that was true either. What would Belle do? Would she want to "numb it" as he suggested? She really wasn't sure, but she had the striking thought that if he was with Belle instead of her and they only had hours to live, they probably wouldn't spend it drinking their sorrows away. But that didn't matter right now. Belle was gone, and she was here instead, nothing could change that, and frankly she, Lacey, could really use a drink to help ease the pain of her future and also make her forget her past…again. "I'll drink to that!" she responded with a small laugh, attempting to join him in making a pointless joke, wondering if it would make her feel better.

It didn't. She still felt overwhelmingly scared of everything that she'd heard and everything that would happen. Her past was a lie. Her future was gone. The only thing that could possibly comfort her was in this moment alone. But as she reached for the liquid she fumbled the glass. It tipped over, out of her hands, spilling the precious contents all over the wooden table. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry," she apologized as she instinctively sought out something to pick it up with. There, on the far table was that rag he'd been carrying around. "Ah, here," she grabbed it and began to sob up the mess. "I got it, I got it..." Not that it would matter, not that any of it would matter in only a few hours. She was suddenly happy that cleaning up at least provided her some kind of escape from this reality. He said that Belle had been a servant, his maid. Had she done this often then? Cleaning up? Had she found the same comfort in it that she found now?

"S-Stop!" he yelled at her suddenly. "Stop! Put that down!"

"It's just an old rag," she argued as he grabbed it away from her.

"It belonged to someone very important you wouldn't understand!" he snapped, showing more emotion toward her in that sentence than he had since he'd come back and told her Neal had died.

"I said 'I'm sorry'," she repeated. It was weak, and she knew it. She should have wanted to scream at him, should have wanted to snap at him like he'd snapped at her. Of course she didn't understand! How could she understand?! She knew now, she knew exactly what had been standing in their way this entire time. It was her, but it wasn't! She wasn't the one that he needed at a time like this. She wasn't the right person. She wasn't the one that kept all his secrets, or loved him…she wasn't the one that could help him through the loss of a son and the end of the world. No! She wasn't any of those things. That was Belle! Belle was the one that he needed! But Belle was gone and now they both knew that she was never coming back. And neither of them really knew what to do with that small fact. Which was the only thing that kept her from lashing out at the man before her. He was just as confused about all of this as she was.

She could leave. But, honestly, why bother? Where would she go? Home? Was home even real? Did she even have a father? Was there anyone in this world that really loved her? That feeling of sadness, the one that made her feel like she wanted to cry, crept back into her mind again. He loved her, but he didn't love her because he loved her. This was all so terrible. So confusing. Leaving wouldn't make any of what had or would happen better. Could staying?

At least she wouldn't die alone. At least he wouldn't die alone. At least if she stayed she could give him the illusion of the woman that he loved unto death. She didn't know where that desire came from, that sudden flood of compassion, maybe it was the girl locked tightly away in her head trying to break free. Maybe it was just everything that he'd done for her since she'd crossed the town line and lost it all. Yes, it was small but after all he'd done for her in the hospital, watched after her, however closely, told her about magic, and telling her about Belle, well…she was certain leaving would be the wrong thing to do.

He placed the rag back on the counter and a glance at him let her think, for a second, that he was sharing the same thoughts. But tears in his eyes told her they'd both come to different conclusions. Staying would be the right thing to do…but it wouldn't be enough. She wouldn't be enough. She really was just a cheap imitation of the real thing. But to admit that wasn't an option for either of them. They were stuck, the end of the world was barreling toward them, and neither were able to turn and run.

She wiped her hands and tried to think of something to say to make this mess less…messy. But instead of returning to her side by the table, he went to the same cabinet he'd pulled the bottle of alcohol from and opened it. Confused at the sudden change of direction, she watched as he pulled out a blue pouch with a golden rope holding the opening closed. It made a sound like thick broken glass when it shifted in his hands. What was inside of it? Why was he pulling it out now?

As if answering her silent questions, he turned it over on the table and out fell the shattered remains of…something. She really wasn't sure what the white glass had been before it was broken, or why he was holding onto something that was this helpless! As always he was one step ahead of her and with a wave of his hand thick purple smoke enveloped the pieces and when it cleared she saw an object that she did recognize, but only just barely. An object she'd forgotten about because of the terrible memory associated with it. In hindsight, that memory made a lot more sense now, or at least more than it had. But then again, so did most things, now that she knew the truth.

"That cup again," she nodded trying to figure out when he had retrieved the pieces. It must have been after she'd fallen asleep that night because he sure as hell didn't do it when she was awake…she would have screamed in that fragile state. "What is it?" she asked, trying to recall what he'd told her about it in the hospital. It was her talisman, she'd broken it in his castle, he had enchanted it, and if she concentrated then it would help. Had he meant that it would bring back her memories? Now that she knew about magic she didn't look at it skeptically or like he was crazy. In fact she looked at him and the cup like it was possible. She didn't just think it could happen, she knew it could happen! Desperate to leave this confusion, this dreaded in between place behind, she stared at it, hoping that it might break whatever curse she was suffering from.

But nothing happened. Nothing felt similar. No life came or went from her mind. Nothing changed. Maybe the charm had worn off. Or maybe when she'd broken the cup whatever power it contained had shattered too.

"It's something from my past," he informed her, "from our past." She could see the emotion collecting there on his face and knew that whatever role it had played must have been an important one. But she didn't know what exactly that role was. She couldn't understand the significance of a broken tea cup. Only Belle could-

"I'm sorry," he said, changing the subject quickly. Did she look as hopeless as she felt right now? "Let's not fight."

She struggled to hold back a laugh at his comment. Why bother? It wasn't as if they'd be around long enough to care.

She watched as he popped open the top of a small vial of blue liquid and poured a small amount into the damaged cup, then did the same to his own glass. He resealed the vial and handed her the cup, she didn't bother to question why he was offering  _this_  liquid to her in  _this_  cup instead of the glass that she'd been using. She felt like she was too exhausted to care to ask him about it. And hell, every time she asked a question these days she felt as though she regretted it instantly. She still hadn't recovered from the previous question why torment herself more?! Frankly, all she really cared about was the unfamiliar liquid that he poured into it. She had no idea what it was or would do to her or them, and once again didn't really care enough to ask. All that mattered to her was that it was strong. She guessed it was, otherwise wouldn't he have given her more?

They knocked their glasses together with a small "clink" and she poured the liquid into her mouth, catching the faintest scent of roses, and let it sit on her tongue for the smallest moment. It didn't taste like the alcohol, instead it was sweet, like chocolate. But she didn't care what it tasted like or smelled like so long as it was powerful enough to chase away the devastation she felt, and hoping beyond all common sense that somehow the foggy stupor it would leave her in, would somehow make the world clearer. She set the cup down on the table and swallowed the mouthful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, welcome to the end. I really hope that you enjoyed this story! The next story in the Moments series is Moments Shared and Unshared. It begins with the moment Belle gets her memories back in "...And Straight On Till Morning" and ends with the moment that everyone heads back to the Enchanted Forest in "Going Home".
> 
> Of course if you liked what you read please comment! I love getting those wonderful little gems in my inbox and communicating with the people reading on a personal level. And if you want to read more (and review more) please check out any of the other fictions in the Moments Series. For more information on the Moments Series, upcoming fictions, posting days and publishing dates, or a reading order check my profile and to keep up on any editions on the Moments Series throughout the year follow Montreat11 on Twitter! Peace and Happy Reading!


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